The loud lunking sound of a metal bar being set down rattles the equipment.

"Shiiiiiiit."

She holds onto it. Expecting someone to get on her case for making a racket...

...

"Oh shit. Nice."

She was not bothered moving to the next set of equipment. Which is where you come in.

*You were staking out... But it was Her.

She's pretty, she told you how she was going to be a singer before the music ban, also a total delinquent. You don't know why you looked up to a college drop out and former convict so much. But you did. She could Beat you up and you wouldn't say a word. Or try to vocalize that thought around her Ever!

It was nice. To talk to someone who kind of got the pain of just. Having a big dream like music go away. Because society made some stupid ass laws.

While hiding around the gym trying to work up the courage for the insurmountable task of talking to a woman. Another goer gave you a small pat on the back.

"Mate. You see the treadmills?"

Not exactly... Cliché words of encouragement. They just needed some help. But... You felt experienced. And that. Made you confident.

You walked over with a chest full of pride.

"Oh. Sup."

Beat says. She shakes her head lightly.

"You need me for anything. I'm busy.