I looked at Daniel’s medal.

Then at Laura’s.

“At least you finished the race,” I said.

Daniel looked at me hopefully, perhaps thinking I was beginning to calm down.

I met his eyes.

**“Your story didn’t make it across the finish line.”**

***

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Daniel called my name.

I didn’t stop.

The finish area was filled with happy people.

Families were hugging runners.

Children held handmade signs.

Volunteers passed out fruit and bottled water.

Everywhere I looked, people were celebrating.

I had been celebrating too.

Only minutes earlier, I had crossed the finish line feeling proud of myself.

Now I couldn’t stop thinking about the way I’d behaved that morning.

I had dressed in darkness because I thought the light hurt my husband’s eyes.

I’d carried my shoes downstairs so I wouldn’t disturb him.

I’d asked whether he needed medicine.