Boardwalk: Carol D/Steve R
[In his running gear—a lycra shirt in gray and loose running pants, Steve was utterly conspicuous. His blond hair went halo-bright under the throw of light of each streetlamp, but he didn't pay that, or anything else, much mind. The late hour meant the lapses of darkness offered some privacy, but not much, with the spangled glow of theme park rides brightening the horizon.
The wood, old, creaked under Steve's shoes, but otherwise, the only sounds were those of water washing rhythmically and the dull roar of a city winding down.
He saw Carol quickly and lifted a hand to her.] Hey, Carol.