2.

Rahil punched away at the PC. His angst was flowing out thru his fingers.

This was his private world. Where no one entered. Where he emoted. Where he let himself go for that much time while he typed. He had tried controlling his mind even when he wrote, but it wasn't possible. He dint do it as well. And he had to excel in what he did. No options about that.

Damn the white sheath. Damn the palm fronds. Damn serenity. Rahil finished a chapter and looked up from the monitor. And breathed. Took in life. A slow smile crossed over his face while control marched over his mind and disposition.

I need to take a walk, his mind registered as his hands immediately reached for his sweats. The gates of his building were swinging softly with the pre-dawn breeze. As if they were hanging from the hinges for dear life. One swat and they would come clambering down, disturbing the activities of the few residents of the building.

Grinning wryly at that he stepped out and burst into a fast jog. No warm-up, no gradual toning, he wanted the pain his calf muscles would give at the sudden punishment. He wanted the stitch in his stomach that should indicate the tightening of his stomach muscles. He wanted to feel his thigh muscles bunching, ready to lurch into a run if needed.
His feet hit the hard wet sand at the back of the beach. High tide. He went a little more inwards, feeling the water lapping at his ankles and his nikes squishing with water and mud. Discomfort. Just what he wanted. It was more difficult to jog in water when it squelched in shoes.

After an hour we was running in knee-deep water. The sun was rising from the opposite side of the water-front, he looked at it, through the palm fronds fringing the beach.

Palm fronds. When he looked up at them again the sky was a white sheath, with the palm fronds embossed on it.