The match was on, Jimmy was out of the starting block in a flash, as for myself I was trailing him as usual. So it had been for the last few years. Just once I wanted to beat him to the finishing line, but as normal I just did not have the finish. As we turned for home he slowed briefly, looked across at me, smiled then turned up the speed. He would go on to run for his county; and in my view could have run for his nation. But he discovered cigarettes, now I can outrun him, but I don’t smile. For I would rather he had gone on to national fame, even perhaps run in the Olympics. It would then have validated my humble attempts at running. I never did cross the line in front of him in our cross country matches, but I sure enjoyed the challenge.
Genre: a memory converted to flash fiction. Thank you yarnspinnerr for the prompt.