Laura’s daily runs were her refuge from past pain, but a chatty neighbor kept crashing them. When he didn’t show up one day, her worry led to a discovery that turned her routine upside down.
For Laura, 46, life after divorce meant control—every minute planned to keep sadness at bay. Her morning jogs were her sanctuary, until a persistent neighbor started joining her, and his sudden absence revealed how much he’d come to mean.
In her quiet bedroom, Laura stared at her clock, waiting for 5:59 to flip to 6:00. When it did, she silenced the alarm, made her bed with military precision, and moved to the bathroom. Toothbrush aligned, towels folded, mirror reflecting a face etched with resilience—she’d rebuilt herself since her marriage ended eight years ago.
At 6:30 sharp, she tied her sneakers, popped in earbuds, and headed out for her run, her audiobook drowning out the world. Running was her escape, strengthening her body and mind against lingering heartache. But for weeks, her neighbor Tom had been disrupting her solitude with his relentless cheer.
Tom lived across the street, and every morning, he’d burst out, laces flapping, waving like an overexcited puppy. Today, Laura saw him sprint from his porch, tripping over his untied shoes to catch up. She sighed, picking up her pace, hoping to shake him.
“Laura! It’s me!” Tom called, panting as he matched her stride, grinning despite his labored breaths.
She pulled out an earbud, feigning surprise. “Oh, Tom, didn’t notice you,” she said, her tone clipped. Her run was sacred—no room for small talk.
“Sorry, got held up,” he gasped, undeterred. “Got a joke for you. Why did the tomato turn red?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Tom. Why?”
“Because it saw the salad dressing!” He beamed, waiting for her reaction.
Despite herself, a small laugh escaped. She covered it with a cough, but Tom’s grin widened. “Knew I’d get you!” he said, pumping a fist.
“Wasn’t awful,” she admitted, speeding up to escape his chatter. But Tom kept up, his enthusiasm chipping away at her walls.
Over weeks, Laura found herself warming to him. His corny jokes—once annoying—made her smile. She slowed her pace slightly, letting their talks stretch. Glancing at his house each morning became habit, his goofy wave a strange comfort.
But this morning, his door stayed shut. Laura checked her watch—6:35. No Tom. Unease crept in. He never missed a run. After waiting a few minutes, she crossed the street and knocked. No answer. She rang the bell, peered through a window—nothing.
“Tom? You there?” she called, her voice tight. Silence.
“Hey, who’s yelling?” Mrs. Carter, Tom’s elderly neighbor, appeared, eyeing Laura.
“Morning, Mrs. Carter,” Laura said, embarrassed. “Tom usually runs with me, but he’s not here. Maybe he slept in?”
Mrs. Carter frowned. “No, dear. An ambulance took him last night.”
Laura’s stomach dropped. “Ambulance? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Carter said. “Poor guy’s alone, no family nearby.”
Guilt hit Laura. Tom had become part of her mornings, his chatter a light she hadn’t realized she needed. She rushed home, grabbed her keys, and headed to the local hospital.
At the reception desk, her nerves jangled. “I’m looking for Tom, admitted last night,” she said.
“Last name?” the receptionist asked.
Laura flushed. “I… don’t know it. We’re neighbors. Just met recently.”
“Only family can visit,” the receptionist said, skeptical.
“I’m his girlfriend,” Laura blurted, surprising herself.
The receptionist smiled. “Tom Harper, Room 107. Follow me. Better learn his last name if you’re sticking around,” she teased.
Laura’s heart raced as she heard Tom’s laugh from the room. The receptionist knocked. “Tom, your girlfriend’s here,” she said with a wink.
Tom’s eyes lit up. “Laura! Get in here!” he said, waving from his hospital bed, IV dangling but his grin intact.
“Girlfriend?” Laura said, raising an eyebrow. “I had to say something to see you. What happened?”
Tom chuckled, then sighed. “My heart’s not great. Doc says no more running, especially not chasing you.”
Laura’s face fell. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged, sheepish. “Didn’t want to miss our jogs. You’re… special, Laura. I’ve seen you help neighbors, give to charity. I wanted to know you.”
Her throat tightened. “You risked your health to run with me?”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Worth it.”
Laura took his hand, warmth spreading through her. “No more running, Tom. How about coffee at my place instead?”
His smile glowed. “Doc would like that better,” he said. “Me too.”
Laura laughed, the weight of her solitary routine lifting. Coffee with Tom sounded like the start of something new—something worth slowing down for.