We’re running. He’s ahead of my by a half a stride, and I can feel the way this makes me run harder, then harder still, trying to catch up, to syncopate, to be in step. Finally I ask him, “Where do you see me now? Next to you or behind?” “Next to me,” he says, zero hesitation. I sprint a step ahead so we’re in line, his feet moving in time with mine now, our knees and feet matching in gate. “How about now?” I ask. “Ahead.” I put my arm out like the wing of an airplane, perpendicular to my side, it brushes lightly against his chest. We’re exactly in line. “I’m beside you now,” I say, “But I wasn’t before.” “No way!”…