The Gym (Blogophilia 24.7)
Slap. Slap. Slap . The sound of rubber against rubber was echoing through an empty gym. The pale orange shoes were unusual. They had been bought on a whim off of a clearance rack. They quickly reached their rhythm and the breathing began to labor. Sweat poured through the dark grey shirt and began to drip on to the running surface. Two AM and Jeremy can’t sleep, too much energy from a too productive day. He didn’t come here often, but it was open 24 hours a day. And the few other desperate diehards in the place concentrated on their own routines. Exercise bored him. It was only useful for the times he couldn’t stand still. It was used at the Hospital to fill time, or in his case, as punishment for not following orders. The orderlies would have him do military drills over and over. Compliance to the drills was a matter of rebellion for him. Sore and soaked with sweat, it would continue until he could no longer stand. And the next day, the same thin...