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Fiction

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I see him just about every morning during my jog. Jogging in the dawn through the neighborhood still asleep and then through a nearby trail inthe woods has become just about a daily routine for me for several decades now. I sleep in a different bedroom so as not to disturb my wife. I quietly get up before dawn, make a cup of tea with the help of faint light coming from a light under the kitchen cabinet, and create the least noise possible while my wife is still asleep. I have gotten used to the darkness and I know my way around tip-toeing with my bare feet in the house. A little hot tea and cereal give me the caffeine and energy for my morning ritual. They say you are not supposed to run on an empty or full stomach. Obviously, after about twelve hours of fasting, I suppose the stomach expects something too. I turn off…