The Finish Line

It was always good and strange for her to talk to people who were on the other side of the finish line. They were all telling her she'd get there in the end and that she should relax. Everybody eventually got there. There really was no rush, they told her. It was hard to listen when the sense of urgency came running after you with a whip and you kept falling over obstacles trying to keep an eye on the target on the horizon. Her legs were bruised but at least she'd been running for so long, she didn't get out of breath easily anymore. Sometimes when the people at the finish line told her to relax she'd walk for a bit. She'd walk until some cunt would overtake her with a stamina that made her blood boil and she'd start running again. She wanted to walk but it was difficult when you were in a stream of people moving forward much quicker than her.