"They're all ... headed ... east" I huffed as rows of crows paralleled our first bare-legged run of the spring through a neighborhood along the Raritan River in Piscataway, New Jersey.
"We'll follow" directed Athena with her jet black hair sashaying across shoulders, bringing a bigger mission to our first official date as a cadaver couple.
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She was a petite second year student at Rutgers Medical School doing a stint as anatomy tutor for the first year class in which I was fumbling through my first human dissection. When not reassuring the feckless freshmen, she and the rest of the sophomores were immersed in Sex Week, the annual desensitization experience for soon-to-be doctors.
"How about a nice ... run after class?" Athena proposed with smiling auburn eyes, hopping from one foot to another in her long white lab coat.
"SURE" I grinned up in my green scrubs from a slice through a rather circus-sized male genitalia.
I was hooked when she slugged me in the deltoid and danced on to the next gurney.
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Another mile and we were rolling through corn fields along an old Middlesex County road, drawn by a rising cacophany to a humongous oak just leafing out on the edge of a farmer's field.
"Let's look" she commanded, one smooth and milky white thigh stepping through the barbed wire as I held the top wire up and stepped on the bottom one.
"BOOM, BOOM, BOOM" froze her straddling the barbs and triggered a black rain from the tree.
Three bearded guys in coveralls, shotguns in hand, emerged as we high-tailed it back the way we had come. After a silent sprint in the now chilling dusk, we slowed to our jogging rhythm as the sun set over the river valley.
"Shower time" she laughed, and it was.
Poor crows! A memorable run, better for the companionship.
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