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approval before grabbing the box and returning in a full sprint to my house.
***
I mix the grout and work with it to secure the glass into the permanent pattern that I have finally satisfied myself with.  The table is an intricate pattern of reds, yellows and blues with a kaleidoscope look, branching out from the middle. The colors complement each other and I step back and realize that I truly like the table, and I know Mr. Roberts will be happy with it too.  As the table dries, I start to look through and sort the broken pot pieces and try to decide what to do with them.  It was a beautiful pot, and I know it will make a beautiful mosaic piece.  I work straight through lunch and then decide I better try to sleep before it gets dark. 
It sometimes surprises me at just how routine my life can be at times and then utterly out of control at others.  This is where the anxiety sets in for a person like me, someone who needs control in every aspect, someone whose daily existence relies on avoiding triggers that will set you off in a down spiral of fear.  The irony is that often those that feel the most need for control, are themselves the ones being controlled by their own fears, insecurities, and doubts. 
I grab a bite to eat around 9:00 p.m., and wait.  I am determined to go running this evening, and after officially meeting my neighbor, if that is what we are calling it, I feel a little less apprehension about accidentally running into him like the other night. In the few times I’ve seen Ian, he has looked like he was having some sort of inner battle.  I have a feeling he needs his privacy as much as I do. 
***
I tie up my shoes and stand on my porch.  I look to the left down the drive and am relieved to see that the lights are off at Ian’s house. I tip my head back and take a deep breath. The cool mountain air greets me, filling my lungs with refreshing pine that infuses all of my senses.  I start off toward my normal path as the sounds of the nighttime forest calm me. The gravel of the driveway crunches under my feet as I start my rhythm, pat-pat-pat-pat-pat.  The only break through sounds are the occasional snapping of a branch under my feet or the scurrying of animals who are caught by surprise by the heavy feet running by, muted only by the sporadic mat of leaves.
I run, sometimes closing my eyes and allowing my acute senses to take over.  I feel so free; running into the darkness of the night allows me to figuratively run away from the darkness in my mind.  There is no Ian tonight as I emerge from the trees, and when I finally plop down on the stairs of my porch, I feel wonderful!
     

Chapter 12
~Ian
I don’t know why Ally would have cleaned up the mess I made with my pot.  It doesn’t make sense, but regardless I am grateful to not have to deal with it.  Feeling empty after my emotional outburst, run and tears, I strip my sweats off and head straight for the shower.  Surprisingly, the water feels absolutely invigorating!  Afraid to lose this feeling, one that has become almost non-existent, I stand underneath the water, letting it run over my puffy eyes and tired body.   As I dry off, I can’t help but think about how good I feel right now.  My skin feels alive and my body refreshed.  The run was a good idea, and something I should probably keep up. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.
I sit down at the table to eat a late lunch before starting on some work.  While looking around, I make mental notes of things I may want to change about the house.  When I first looked at the house, I was most attracted to the rustic look and feel.  The walls are warm rust orange that I really like, and it seems to make the exposed beams look so dark and rich.  I love the kitchen cabinets because they have that same look, like they are made with the same wood as the beams.  The counter tops are concrete and have been painted and finished to a shiny crème color.  I am not fond of the tile