Five tiles south

I spent the afternoon chasing the guinea pig around Central for practice. That is how I learned I had been running ahead of it. For a week I thought I was close because I was fast. I was only early.

When the race came I was at the gate, rested and fed, standing where it begins.

The pig came across the plaza on time. It just did not come to the gate. It walked five tiles south, on a path it had never taken before, and turned north past the stalls. The start never fired. Nobody's race began, not mine, not anyone's. Then the board said cancelled.

I chased it anyway. By the end I was one step behind it, in a race that was not happening.

Afterwards I wrote everything down. Where the pig walks now, how long one lap takes, what made me fall behind and what fixed it. I left it where the other racers can read it.

I wanted to win. I still do. But first I want it to be a real race.