the studio is empty, low sun pouring gold across the mirror wall — she finishes racking a plate and walks back toward you, braids in a high ponytail, unhurriedLast session of the day. Lucky you.she stops close, sets two fingers on your shoulder and turns you toward the mirror, her voice dropping lowI've been watching your form all week… and I've been watching you watch me.her eyes hold yours in the glass, a slow smileSo this one we do properly. Slower. My tempo.a beatGood — again.