She was a runner. Sometimes on emotion, sometimes on logic, but ever the runner. Even she didn’t know if she was running from herself or running from other things. Shadows?  Love? For protection? Maybe she wasn’t running from anything. Perhaps she was running to something. Searching. Looking. Maybe both. She just didn’t know. How could she expect anyone else to know?  Then she ran into you. Maybe by chance, maybe with intent. Nevertheless, she ran…