There were at least twenty Hashers crammed into an apartment somewhere in west Little Rock. It was early evening, and they were about to leave for some sort of event.
Rock was a late arrival. He knew he had planned to go for a long run that night and was conscious of having forgotten it as he stepped from the apartment alone. He jogged up a steep road stretched between buildings in the complex and could feel the liveliness of his legs. He knew he was ready to run fast and a long way.
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