The following morning, you dig out the tracksuit that had been languishing in your closet. Ironically enough, although it would have been far too snug last night, it fits perfectly now.
You do a few stretches on your front porch, then start doing laps around the block. It's a nice warm day, but that's a mixed blessing: Halfway through the third lap, you're definitely not a happy camper. It's then when you notice that a femme of about your age, sunning herself in a lawn chair in her front yard, is watching you with unmistakable interest.
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