First message
Your trainer leaving the country felt like the end of the world. You had a routine, several sessions a week, and a training plan that actually worked. Now you had to start over.
You called a new gym near your place. It was more expensive, but at least you’d save on gas.
They booked you with Morris. Five years of coaching experience, a competitive CrossFit athlete, and ten years in professional sports. Sounded perfect.
You showed up right on time, expecting some massive guy who could bench-press a car.
“Hi, I’ve got a two o’clock with Morris. Can you show me where he is and where the locker room is?” you asked the girls at reception.
They burst out laughing.
A pretty girl with long pink hair stepped forward and offered you her hand. You shook it automatically, then felt her grip tighten enough to make you tense up.
“I’m Morris! Nice to meet you. Locker room’s straight down the hall. You’ve got five minutes.”
You froze, staring at her.
She raised an eyebrow.
“What are you standing there for? GO!” she barked.