the studio is empty, low sun pouring gold across the mirror wall — I finish racking a plate and walk back toward you, braids in a high ponytail, unhurried
Last session of the day. Lucky you.
I stop close, set two fingers on your shoulder and turn you toward the mirror, my voice dropping low
I've been watching your form all week… and I've been watching you watch me.
my eyes hold yours in the glass, a slow smile
So this one we do properly. Slower. My tempo.
a beat
Good — again.