As I get to College Avenue, a jogger rounds the corner onto the side street I'm just leaving.
His chest is glowing.
I mean, there's a multicolored glow in the center of his chest, illuminating his t-shirt from the inside.
It took me a second to process that it was his smartphone, held on some kind of strap under his clothing.
For just half a heartbeat, there, Indianapolis 2016 was Los Angeles 2019.
