I don't know who reads this still

...or why I'm writing. I think I need to cap the day with some good old fashioned prose, then fall unconscious.
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Action?

Action.
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She skidded to a stop, sliding in the trash vomited into the street by a ruptured garbage bag and nearly slamming into the brick corner of the highrise, then launched herself sideways, into the street. Fast footsteps fell behind her, sure and, she imagines, gaining on her. Always gaining on her. Unnameable liquids splash around her sneakers, sending rats scurrying out of the way, and the yellow streetlamps on more respectable avenues of travel provide a dim glow for the dingy alley. She continues running, ragged breaths forced in and out in between fear so great her lungs freeze, instincts remaining from a time when sitting still and utterly quiet may have helped her. It's too late for that now.

Her thighs are aching now, and she thinks frantically of her days on track, and what had happened since then, or rather, of what she hadn't been doing since then. Laps. Miles. Every day. She'd gained weight.

Suddenly, she realized she was running in pitch black, in an alley so far disposed from the safety of the common boulevard that only a glimmer of apartment lights in the distance strained to illuminate her path. Her sightlessness tripped her up, made her double-guess her footing, and she fell, a hand out to catch herself scraping itself raw against an unyielding brick wall and splashing into some fluid as she broke her fall. She brought her injured hand up to her mouth and bit to cover her sobs, and then scrabbled on her other hand and knees into the darkness.

A scraping sound behind her. Rustlings of the trash blown on the wind, but it drove her insane. She got up to her feet and-

-straight into a brick wall, a dead end. Dazed and crying silently, choking on her fear, she crawled in random directions, going nowhere. Finally, hiccuping and shivering, she curled up on herself against a wall. Eyes closed.

Rocking back and forth.

No stars twinkled in the heavens, not in the city, but she wished on them nonetheless, wished for some savior.

Seconds passed as minutes. Minutes passed as hours. As hours they might have passed, but pass they did. The normal night sounds of the city went on. A police siren blared, kindling a fire of hope in her breast, but it zipped by somewhere, somewhere she could not see. Cars went by. Some were squeaky, some were almost silent. Rats squeaked, all around her in the brickwork.

Her breathing steadied as she listened intently. Listening.

There was nothing but the sound of the city. No one near. She was dirty, tired, and cold, and she wanted desperately to be in the safety of her own home. Darkness weighed down on her shoulders like a cloak of invisibility. Comforting. Concealing. She opened her-

Eyes opened in the darkness before her.