She walked beside me for the rest of the lap.

“We can try again another day,” she said.

I hated that six minutes felt like a defeat.

“Six minutes is six minutes you chose,” she answered.

“That’s not nothing.”

On the drive home I watched houses slide past the window.

Every porch light seemed impossibly bright.

I wondered how long it would be before I could look at one without remembering the night mine went dark.