My feet hit the ground as I run along meandering paths lined by lush green trees, past dog walkers and early risers sitting on benches. The sound of my footfalls vibrates through my entire body.

The colors of the summer flowers and leaves decorating Melrose Park are vibrant. I get to see a lot of ugly in my life, disgust often fills my lungs instead of fresh air. But here, surrounded by lush foliage and innocent dahlias and fuchsias, beauty shows me its face. It offers me the chance to pretend my life is untainted. Running has always been great at flushing out the ugly from my mind and body, at least for a while.

Three years ago, I started jogging in nature as a way to beat the depression which had pushed me into my darkest corner.

Unfortunately, I haven’t done much jogging in the past six months. I come home so late every night that I’d rather catch up on my morning sleep than work out. The only exercise I manage to fit into every single day is a ten-minute aerobics workout I discovered online. But I’ve missed this. The heat produced by my body melts away the negative emotions scrambling for space inside me, the disgust, the humiliation.

This run makes me feel as though my body is actually mine, before I rent it out at nightfall. I come to a screeching halt in front of a drinking water fountain, catching my breath while listening to birds chirping in the trees. Cool mist escapes the fountain and cools my boiling skin. Despite being breathless and in pain, my body vibrates with life.

I run for another thirty minutes until my lungs can’t take it anymore. Only then do I end the run.

Sweaty and exhausted, I stop at the Coffee & Cream café. For the first time in a long time, I open my eyes to the life around me. I notice the blush covers on the round tables, breathe in the aromas of warm coffee, melting sugar, and cinnamon muffins. I watch the guests enjoying their breakfast while talking on the phone or reading their morning papers. Since no one is at the sticky cash register, I fold my arms next to a tower of plastic cups and lids and the stack of white napkins, listening to the sound of my breathing and the proof of life around me, while gazing into the glass case that contains a variety of snacks—sandwiches, cookies, muffins and other sweet treats.

“Good morning. Can I get you anything?” A young barista asks over the sound of coffee beans being ground, the chime of the door opening, and drinks being slurped at the red bistro tables behind me.

I glance at the chalkboard with specials scrawled across it, then smile at the teenage girl standing in front of me, hair in ponytails, skin fresh and clean, eyes bright with hope, untainted by life. Hopefully fate will be kind to her. May she never get to know the excruciating pain of having your heart ripped out, the struggle to piece it back together.

“I’d like the peachy green protein smoothie, please. To go.” The last time I came to Cup & Cream, they had no smoothies on the menu. I’d walked in with coffee on my mind, but the thought of the icy relief of a smoothie on my tongue makes my mouth water.

“Sure, anything else?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you.” I push my hand into the pockets of my shorts for the money I brought along for my treat. I hand it to her, accept my smoothie, and drop a coin into the snowflake tip jar.

I enjoy my drink on the way home, the sweet and tangy flavors of peaches, pineapple, almond milk, and kale bursting on my tongue. Not even the stench rising from a dented trashcan puts me off.

A block from my apartment, the hairs at the back of my neck bristle, the way they do when someone is watching me.

My gaze sweeps the street behind me. Nothing suspicious calls for my attention. There’s no one on the street except for a woman walking a white poodle and a teenager riding a blue bike with chipped paint. Still glancing over my shoulder, I move to the front door of my apartment building and dig out the keys from my pocket. They hang from a Boston University keyring Allison had given me. Every day I see it, it reminds me of my dream.

Once the doors open, I glance behind me again, holding my breath. As I’m about to look away and disappear into the building, I spy a car parked on the other side of the street, the only one that’s occupied. I raise my hand to my face, to shield my eyes from the bright morning sunlight so I can see clearer. I can feel with every fiber of my being that the person inside the car is watching me, but I can’t make out their face. Or maybe I’m being paranoid.

Placing a hand on my chest, I take in a breath, forcing myself to remain calm, to think rationally. I push open the door and enter the lobby.

Just because someone is sitting in a car, looking out, doesn’t mean it’s me they are watching. They could be waiting for a person who lives in my apartment building to come out and get into the car. That has to be it. Why would anyone be watching me?

Giving it no further thought, I climb the stairs to the third floor, where my apartment is located.

After finishing my smoothie, I take a quick shower and settle at my computer, preparing to pay my bills. I always pay the bills Saturday mornings, a habit I inherited from my mother who, in her moments of lucidity, always sat down to pay the bills as soon as she had prepared Saturday breakfast.

I sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of my heart beating. I consider praying, as Mom used to do, but instead decide to switch on the computer. I gave up on prayer six years ago, when I stopped believing in God. Even if God really exists, I don’t think he approves of what I do to earn money. The money that pays my bills is tainted, impure.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve paid off the most urgent bills but the burden of my credit card debt still presses heavy on my shoulders. It will be a while before it lifts, if it ever does. I get to my feet and sway to my single, metal bed, which stands only three steps from my desk. I throw myself onto the bed, feeling as though I’m falling into a wide sea, my own personal ocean. I may not be able to see the shore yet, but I’ll get to it, somehow, someday.

Fresh determination coursing through my veins, I slide off the bed and pull back the curtains, which stay closed most of the time. Gazing up at the bright blue sky, I make myself a promise. I’ll get myself out of this hellhole that’s my life. I will get back the version of me I used to like. One day I’ll walk away from The Mirage, peel off the shame, and face my future with confidence. I’ll build a life and a career I can be proud of.

Hopefully Derrick will stay the hell away from me. All he brings with him are memories of the pain I’ve been trying to outrun for six years.