Midnight Runs

I grimaced as I felt the crunch beneath my shoe.

A snail.

A casualty of my late night jog.

The sidewalk glistened under the streetlights, still wet from the rain that had poured down upon them from morning until early evening.

I remember when I was much younger, after the rain, the smell of the juniper bushes in my grandparents' front yard. My grandfather would take great pride in stepping on the snails as they tried to escape the wetness all around them.

I do not enjoy crushing snails. In fact, the rest of my jog, I am especially mindful of where I step in an attempt to prolong the lives of many snails and worms who are out of their homes and sharing this evening with me.

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