[ WP ] Every morning she puts on her sweats , laces her shoes , downs some coffee , and goes running with a dead man .

He was fine. Just a little spoiled. A little rotten. But it was an idiosyncrasy, not a fault. 
 
 
 Besides, he still looked like he did before.That was what she told herself, anyways. 
 
 
 She got ready. She liked to stretch before running and not after. When she tied her shoes she tied them very tight. She liked the pressure on her feet. Coffee helped her run and helped her think. 
 
 She did n't run to exercise. Not that she was upset of the shape it put her in but it just was n't WHY she ran. She ran to be with him. And he did look fine. A little rotten, but otherwise fine. 
 
 
 It was a struggle to drag him along. He mostly scraped the pavement like a corpse. Not like a corpse, but actually as a corpse would. It did n't stop her, just slowed her down. 
 
 
 After the run they went inside for tea. He did n't drink but she cared more about the company anyways, so it did n't matter. He was company. He was good company, actually. Her favorite. 
 
 And when she got old he did too. They grew old together. She looked better than he did, surely, but he still did n't look bad. He looked a little rotten, of course, but otherwise fine. 
 
 Just as she felt she was beginning to understand what it meant to be human was when she deceased. And after she was passed he would drag her every morning. He would run the block, and she would scrape along the pavement like a corpse. 
 
 Not like a corpse, but actually as a corpse would. it only slowed him down, anyways. 
 

