Anna

I extend my arm and punch. I do the same with the other. Punch, punch. Left, right. Again and again until I tire. The metal swings the punching bag away from me then back, away from me, then back again. I dance on my tip toes, left, right, left, right, punch, punch. Seconds, minutes, hours pass, I don't pay attention to the time.

It's the only time I don't.

Mickey, the owner of the training center I am profusely sweating in, comes up from behind me, I see ...