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as you stop,
panting, gasping, sweating at your front door
you wonder how you ended there
what inspired the flight
the reckless dash, Eugenides in hand, soft hair splayed behind you
was it the stares as you sat there alone
the whispers as you tried to bury your face in your book
the knowing smiles as you tried to hide behind the fascination of your mediocre food?
I hope
you know better, that it wasn't any of those things
no one else hastened your running, no one else sparked your retreat
it was you, cloistered in your aching loneliness,
haunted by the nagging need for companionship
it was you
only you,
that had you run home.