cuentos Almoradi

There she goes again: the woman walking. Always walking, elbows pistoning her relentless forward drive. In the morning taking the kids to school, I see her walking. In town food shopping, she zips by. Out in the caminos; her track suit and wide sunglasses set for straight ahead, always straight ahead.
Sitting having a bellemonte at a cafe, she passes. She is stick thin and bleach-blonde and straggle haired and she walks erect and she walks with her gaze to the horizon and it seems she never stops, this swift of the street.
Weeks go by and I see her once, twice: a dozen times some days. Somewhere different but with the same tireless expression. It starts to infect my daily moves. Will I see her today? Where? Does she know I am counting the times our paths cross? Does she recognise me?
She can't. She is never still enough for contemplation. She seems to be in some fugue state, escaping from something. Maybe it will possess her if she stops. Maybe this is why she traces her relentless path through everyone elses' daily comings and goings. Maybe she is waiting for someone to stop and talk to her.
I wanted to stop her and ask what was wrong. I wanted to offer her the help I imagined she needed, but she was always too full of pumping purpose for the next step ahead. I had the ridiculous idea that she would vanish if she stopped moving, for I had never seen her stopped.

Then one day I didn't see her when I took the kids to school, or out in the countryside; or in town, or heading out of town. Had she stopped? Had she finally been caught by the pursuant? I have no idea, as I've never seen her since. Yet I wonder about her even now. What it was that fuelled her ever onwards. Why it was that I started to impute my own fears into her purpose...
Today, I was out walking in town and passed many of the places where I saw her nearly ten years ago. Where in the world is she now? I can picture her walking past my old house even now. In my mind she is there forever walking. She won't be stopped. I should stop her and give her a rest. If nothing else, I can at least do this.