Mat favored dark running shorts. The reason: they don’t show the sweat the way lighter colors do, and he didn’t want anyone to think he’d peed his pants. Not that there was anyone around when Mat took to the streets of his neighborhood for his morning run. The sun wasn’t even fully up. Lovely Laura was still soundly asleep in their bed. But an hour later the neighbors would be out walking their dogs, and nosy old Gretchen Alexander invariably would demand a bit of a chat while her dog, Snibbet, sniffed Mat’s shoes, ankles, and shins. Snibbet, thankfully, was too small to sniff any higher.

On this day, Mat passed the halfway mark on his course five seconds better than his best of the year so far, and he felt surprisingly fresh. He’d also seen three bunnies, one of them the cutest little thing. Spotting bunnies gave Mat pleasure, and in his journal he’d indicate how many he’d seen along with his time for the day’s run. About a hundred yards past the third bunny, Mat got stung. Twice. Once on the thumb, once on the butt, right through his black running shorts.