Before the storm, Philip would frequently get a kick contemplating his situation: a solitary guy who enjoyed living amongst the horde.  Long-distance running seemed more akin to Philip’s nature.  And as close to passion as it got.  Those local road races he participated in (likewise casual Reservoir jogs) provided a microcosm of city life – alone amid others.  But easiness wasn’t relevant tonight.  Official closing time approached.  Philip was ready.  Instinctively, he took his meds.  This elicited mordant chuckling.  Central Park awaited.

A police sergeant found the body.  Her off-the-cuff remark furnished tabloid fodder for days: “He ran himself to death.”