Stories by CC Sullivan

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a runner.

The door slammed shut, rattling the walls. I’d drawn it extra hard to make my point. Outside, I spun on my heels and zipped up my hoodie. The day had gone so well until we began arguing over something trite. And through some circuitous route, we’d ended back at a discussion we’d been having for the last few months. I could have stopped the argument, but I had already set myself up to bolt.

A gust of wind blew when the front door opened.