Still Falling

10 | try

Finn

*

My muscles were burning and begging for a reprieve but I ignored and pumped. Sweat trickled down my temples and seeped through my clothing. I kept my breathing controlled and maintained consistent intervals inhaling and exhaling while I lifted the weights. My only view was that of the ceiling and I heaved with every lift and relaxed when the tension was low.

I had already surpassed my target number of sets, but I felt a determined stubbornness to keep lifting the heavy weights until the burning reached an unbearable point and I stopped. I sat up and wiped my face dry with a towel. I checked the time: it was eight a.m., the exact time I usually left the gym after a satisfactory two hour session. But for some reason, today was different and my eyes travelled to the sleek treadmills stationed near the floor to ceiling windows.

After a five minute break, I grabbed my things and moved to one of the machines. I bent down to redo my laces, and when I got back up, there was a woman on a treadmill next to mine.

"Hey," she said casually as she set the machine. I glanced over my shoulder, but there wasn't anyone that stood out. She laughed, again, so casual. "I see you here a lot. Do you live here?"

I stared hard at her, trying to keep my expression as unreadable as possible while I tried to figure out if I'd ever seen her before. She was undeniably beautiful, with blond hair tied up in a ponytail, a slender face and full lips. Telling by her physique, she hit the gym often, but she wasn't the tiniest bit familiar. If it was true that she saw me here a lot, it meant I'd caught her eye. This was a fairly large gym with a lot of patrons after all. Some people came in with gym partners and had friendships they'd formed in here that probably didn't leave the gym and were built solely on the foundation of fitness. And then there was me, who had not interacted with anyone in the thirteen months I'd been a member here.

"Yes, I live here."

"Really? That's great! What floor are you? I'm on the fifty-eight."

"I live in one of the penthouses."

"Oh, so you're neighbors with dear old Agnes Hansson. I'm Anastasia, but you can call me Ana."

"Finn, nice meeting you," was a nice lie. The first part obviously wasn't, but I had no interest in conversing with her, especially if it would end up with us having to talk outside the gym. I was hardly warming up to our current exchange as it was. And maybe it was her overt friendliness, but I was still very hesitant about people and their intentions, now more than ever since the attack.

I hated having my ears plugged while working out— or at all, really— for fear of someone sneaking up on me or something alarming happening around me, but I sensed that Ana was just getting started with her introduction, so I got out a pair of headphones I rarely used nor remembered how to operate and put them on. I got an idea and grabbed my phone to select music and scrolled through before dropping it, pretending to have music on and oblivious to the woman next to me.

With a faint feeling of pride because yes, I was a genius, I got on the treadmill and began my workout. Ana continued next to me, going a little slower than my pace. Hers was reduced to a walk while I continued in a slow jog. I kept up with it for a while longer than I had planned, hoping she would leave before me, but she didn't stop, and my lungs and calf muscles were burning. I was no marathon runner so I stopped and promptly gathered my things to leave.

Ana appeared in front of me as I dumped my headphones back into my backpack.

"Hey, nice workout. You've got a really good form."