The girl in the corner

The peddles on the bike squeak. She’s not peddling fast and she’s putting in a lot of effort with her body too. She has her head stuck in a book but somehow I wonder how much she is reading and how much she is pretending to herself that she just isn’t there.  There aren’t many people in the gym and the radio is only on quietly and somehow, the whole atmosphere smacks of fatigue. I look at her peddling and she seems exhausted, her face gaunt despite her full figure, eyes brown, skin grey. Even her lips are grey, yet beneath this you see what this woman could be. Her tired eyes are pretty and the laughter lines around them whisper that she has a sense of humour and a smile for those around. You couldn’t say she was plain, even those palid lips have shape, call out to be kissed.

I carry on pumping weights, feeling the sweat run down my back. I love coming here, not just to see her but because I love the way I feel alive, the way I push back my limits and challenge myself. Of course, part of the challenge is getting her to notice but she just hides away in the pages of the novel she’s holding. I’ve seen her looking better before, seen her pushing back at her own limits though they are quite tight, gazing longingly at the pool from the body trainer. Tonight she is just lifeless.

With a sigh she climbs off the bike and heads for the door. I wonder why she’s seems so shattered. I wish I knew what to say to her. I wish I knew when she would be back. I wish her knew her name.