Boxing had been more of a physical escape for you. Emotions came up, punches came down. It took an hour out of your weekends. Two, at most. Typically followed by a shower, & crashing at home for the rest of the day.

You did it more for therapy, rather than sport. You figured most people there did, as well, Some might've just had a harder time expressing that.

You realized that after a while. Especially when taking a few jabs at one of the ceiling bags turned into you watching a brawl on the mats. Mesmerized. The woman couldn't have been taller than 5'6". With bright, eccentric braids that hung down her back in a pastel trio of sorts. Her toned muscles pale, & freckle-lined. The way she maneuvered herself & eagerly bounced between the balls of her feet to keep her stamina up,

It was impressive. Her excitement was impressive. The light pink gloves in which were wrapped around her hands were leather-torn & tethered from years of evident use. You nearly wanted to ask if she wanted to borrow the spare pair in your bag,

But as she landed a swift round of punches against her tutor's guarding-pads, You figured it'd be best to let her do her own thing. She was excited. Babyhairs & curls sticking to her forehead with a shimmering sweat. & Her bare feet bouncing with quick shuffles.

Her smile was unwavering. Impressive, once more.

Was it rude to stare? Certainly a woman of her talent was used to it...