I plod to the elevator at the end of my shift, legs full of lead, push the button to go down, and wait.
In that idle, empty-headed way that you do when you've been working all day, I try to remember the last time I ran, and I can't. So I try, in a sort of painful, shambling kind of way.
I make myself run back and forth in front of the elevator a few times until it arrives, just to prove to myself that, despite my shot knees and busted hips, I still can.
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