Gonna Fly Now
Burt grabbed his daughter’s MP3 player by mistake, and so half of the songs during his jog down Philadelphia’s Schuylkill River were rap. He skipped three rap songs in a row, and then Burt heard the most inspirational music in the world: Rocky. When did she find this song? Burt surged ahead, running. That was such a good movie. Never mind that Rocky ran eight different directions in order to jog through Philly the way he did. That guy had heart, and that was all you needed in life. The sequels were good, too. He was only a few minutes from the famous steps of the art museum. It was corny to run up them, but Burt never had the music in his ears before. His aching legs got new life as the music built. Burt’s green windbreaker pressed flat against him as he sped toward the museum, getting to the steps just when Rocky did. He ran like he never had in his life, the music carrying him up. His heart clamped down for a beat, but then it felt fine. Burt pounded up the steps, higher and higher, taking the last ones two at a time. He made it! Burt jumped up and down, not caring how stupid it looked. What a great feeling! He had heard of athlete’s highs, but never felt it before. Burt ran in place, spinning around while pumping his arms in the air. A crowd was around someone lying at the bottom of the steps. Someone trip? Hope they’re okay. Burt continued pumping his fists, the music still in crescendo, the best feeling in his life, not realizing that the person at the bottom of the stairs was wearing a green windbreaker, and was not okay.
