We're chasing each other around the tree.
The fox and me.
Always just shy of catching the other. Sharpening our teeth on the air we each leave behind. You took the tip off my tail. And I ripped the hair out of yours.
You're the reason my hairs turned white. It's the stress. And something else, something deeper, more profound. Something that gets me out of bed in the morning, but forgets to put me back to sleep in the evening.
We've been running for weeks now. And we can't stop.
I'm just waiting to see who drops first.
I think it's going to be me.