Hear Greta Run - Revisited

Back in April, I wrote out this playlist, with explanations, for Greta.  It was originally done as a character study, but I had always wished I would have written it as a narrative piece.  Her story has its own tab at the top, but hopefully this stands alone if you haven't read any of her pieces yet.

With this week's Red Writing Hood prompt asking us to rewrite an old piece, I decided to pull this up and see what I could manage with the 400 word limit.  I cut out a couple of songs, but I think the spirit of the list remains intact.  The referenced songs are underlined and listed at the end of the post, since I don't identify all of them by their artists and/or actual song names.

She started with a jog barely faster than a walk.  Counting weeks on her fingers, Greta grimaced.  What did REM know about losing faith? 

Clicking the small square clipped to her shorts, she landed on Bleeding Love.  Her feet automatically fell into the lyrical rhythm, and she felt her mind probe at the idea of her divorce.  Letting the music seep through her defenses hurt, but she forced herself to Breathe as her muscles warmed, beads of sweat glistening at her temples.

Finished with her warm up jog, Greta sped up her legs to keep tempo with Destiny’s Child.  Listening to Survivor, she enjoyed the wind against her face, drying any tears that may have threatened to fall.  Concentrating on the newfound strength in her legs, she didn’t notice the well-muscled runner pass, slowing his pace to glance back at her, appreciating the determination in her stride.

White Wedding might have been skipped a month ago, but now she smiled, picturing Billy Idol’s eyeliner instead of James’ impeccably pressed tuxedo or the expensive dress languishing somewhere in the depths of her mother’s attic, never welcome in the sunlight again. 

Still learning her limits, Greta let her legs get swept away into the 80s electric keyboards.  Her feet pounded the sidewalk: left, left, left right left.

Sweat slid down her forehead now, trailing burning sunscreen into her eyes.  Irritated, her rhythm faltered as she pulled at the bottom of her tank top to swipe at the offending mix of sweat, sunscreen, and yesterday’s mascara.  Slicking back her bangs with both hands, she shrugged a little. 

This look?  Not so sexy, but living alone meant no one would see it.  Maybe tonight, before meeting the girls, she’d have a half glass of wine and talk herself into wearing the new jeans.  Maybe tonight she’d even wear them without a trendy tunic top swallowing her increasingly fit frame.

Her eyes closed for a moment, already hearing the bass calling them to the dance floor, the five of them dancing with abandon, the way they had before rings and promotions and diapers had crowded their calendars into a jumbled mess of happy obligations that meant a girls’ night was an occasion and not another Saturday night.

The music propelled her forward, gasping for breath; her legs heavy but sure as she ran too quickly back to her apartment.  Greta was not afraid of pushing herself.  Not anymore.

Greta's Playlist 

Losing My Religion (REM)

Bleeding Love (Leona Lewis)

Breathe (2 AM) (Anna Nalick)

Survivor (Destiny's Child)

White Wedding (Billy Idol)

SexyBack (Justin Timberlake)

Just Dance (Lady Gaga)

Not Afraid (Eminem)