Alive.
I stared at the faces.
Then at mine.
I barely recognized that man anymore.
I put the photograph back.
I wasn’t going to become him again.
I just needed to remember how he thought.
PART THREE — FIVE MINUTES
Friday night, the gym was packed.
Claire stood near the front.
She looked nervous.
Derek looked thrilled.
I walked onto the mat wearing a gray T-shirt and black sweatpants.
The crowd laughed when they saw my limp.
Derek bounced on his toes.
“You sure about this, old man?”
“Start the clock.”
The timer began.
Derek attacked immediately.
Jab.
Cross.
Low kick.
His shin slammed into my injured leg.
Pain exploded through my knee.
The crowd cheered.
Derek grinned.
He threw another combination.
I blocked the first punch.
The second caught my cheek.
I tasted blood.
Claire gasped.
Derek shouted:
“You should’ve stayed home!”
He rushed me.
And that was when I stopped fighting like a civilian.
I stepped off his line.
His punch missed.
I caught his wrist.
Turned.
He stumbled.
I released him.
The gym went silent.
Derek stared at me.
“What the hell was that?”
I said nothing.
He attacked again.
This time, I moved differently.
No wasted motion.
