The Twitter Feed of Paige Walcott

October 5th, 8:45am

Facts and Friends: Continents shift at about the same rate as your fingernails grow. Earthquakes are like nature’s nail salon!

October 7th, 8:45am

Facts and Friends: The average female pig can orgasm for thirty minutes! Wow.

October 8th, 8:45am

Facts and Friends: The Moon is the second-densest known satellite. It’s second to Io’s moon to Jupiter! Though our moon will always be the densest thing in my heart <3

October 9th, 8:46am

Facts and Friends: Good news! I am going to start training for the Kirkland Triathlon in the spring. Wish me luck!

Your fact of the day is: time isn’t linear. It happens all at once!

Paige Walcott fucking hated jogging. Jogging was the bully in the second grade that stole her pudding. Jogging was the toddler kicking your chair on the seven hour flight. Jogging was the male student in her AP Bio class that wouldn’t shut up about “biological gender” facts.

It was the stray scabby band aid in a water park bad.

Nevertheless, Paige's shoes slapped against the wet cement and she kept her eyes focused ahead, ahead, ahead. She looked toward the large trees and the family out with their toddler on a walk. She looked at the cars going thirty in a twenty-five mile zone. She looked at her own shoes and tried not to dwell on the tightness in her chest. Paige figured as long as she kept moving and looking toward the next step that she could forget about the screeching in the back of her head.

She had a lab report to do. She had papers to grade. She had milk to throw out and her toenails to clip-- hell, she even liked clipping her toenails. Turning them to nubs was relaxing.

That was the problem with jogging. She was putting one foot in front of the other but not really going anywhere. It was her mom’s ideal to train for something like this, to have another goal, she thought it might “help.” Paige was still working on learning to say no to that woman.

Nevertheless, she said yes, and if she was going to do something. She was going to do it well.

She put one foot in front of the next and counted her breathing: one in, two out, four in, five out… She tried to not start screaming in the back of her head again.

Paige passed a small art store and an apartment complex and a long park and by then only ten minutes had passed. It wasn’t until she was half-way down the next block that a raindrop burst on her nose. Paige jumped and looked both directions before looking up again.

The clouds had been grey and chalky all day, but that was their regular state. It wasn’t until she made it toward Packard Street that strings of rain hit the ground like harp cords waiting to be plucked.

“Shit.” She covered her head with both arms before diving under a leafy green tree. The rain picked up into a steady deluge just as she darted under the branches. Of course this would happen.

She shook her head and started remembering her toenails and the papers for her intro to bio recitation she had to grade. Sometimes she considered giving them all D's and being done with it.

More water splashed across her cheek as the rain shook the leaves above her. Paige took a deep breath before diving across the street and into what appeared to be a small coffee shop.

The shop had plants in the window and faded yellowing windows and smelled strongly of something earthy and a little bitter. She shook the water from her hair as she walked in and exhaled into the dull warmth.

It was crowded since the downpour came on so quickly and Paige quietly slipped to the side of the room. She passed cutesy wooden heart-shaped chairs and chattering people and tried to keep her head down. She didn’t even have her wallet on her or phone so Paige just hid in the corner.

She thought she could wait out the weather for a moment in peace but the second that Paige stood against the wall she caught a pair of eyes. They were muddy brown and narrowed and focused completely on her.

A woman was staring at her from across the room.

Paige shifted in place and looked around to check if the whole room was staring at her like a nightmare where you have to give a school presentation naked. Though it appeared everyone else was going about their business as usual.

Paige glanced back to the single figure at a table. She had a laptop open and her entire body was taut and poised above the keys. And she was staring at Paige.

Paige touched her face consciously.

Did she have a booger?

Was she dripping water on the floors?

Was her face grotesquely falling off like it was an episode of the Twilight Zone where Rob Sterling just ended it with a “and isn’t that fucked up?”

Was this girl a serial killer plotting her next victim?

But women rarely killed other women. Paige tried to be reasonable. She nervously fidgeted in place as the sitting women kept staring-- it was never too late to become the exception to the rule.

The staring girl was petite with a small frame and smaller build. She had close-cropped brown hair that seemed messily trimmed above the eyes, large rounded ears, and a small mouth. A very small pink mouth indeed and even bigger eyes.

She might be considered like one of those teddy bears you find in kids toy stores that say “I love you” when you hug them. Only, this woman was openly concentrating on Paige with a very murdery intent about her.

Like if a Care Bear was named “Uncomfortable Bear” and it’s only power was making you wonder if you peed yourself in public somehow.

Paige shifted from foot to foot before scratching the back of her neck. The woman sat completely still and looked at Paige like a word in the dictionary that was spelled wrong. Finally, Paige turned back toward the door. The rain had slowed down slightly and she decided that slightly was enough.

She put the hood of her jacket back up and made it for the door. She dashed out the front and felt the pounding of the cement on her shoes as she headed toward her home. Thirty minutes was a decent jog, right? She didn’t look back over her shoulder to check if she was still being stared at as she left.

Paige made her way home while taking deep breaths, just like the counselor suggested.

“You’ve got to get over this, Paige.” She remembered her mom insisting. “You can’t spend your last year of your masters moping. You have a doctorate to focus on!”

Paige tried to be positive. She tried to think good thoughts and eat more oranges. She tried to join social media-- hell she tried to make a Fun Facts twitter. Rob always loved fun facts.

And now she was jogging.

Though she had to wonder, in between cursing the existence of physical movement and her to-do lists, when was “better”? When was she going to be alright again? When did the weight ever leave her chest and all the distractions mean something?

Honestly, Paige didn’t know the answer to that, or if anything could make it alright again.

All she knew was that she was jogging and hating it and not really feeling any better yet even after promising her mom she would try. And she was trying. And trying. And trying.