Short Fiction
I was idling at a red light at Mission and Western, a juncture where you could slip away from your life entirely and drive up the wild coast into the potential of ultimate freedom or make a left and then a right and end up at the gym. Each day since the inception of motherhood twice over and all at once, I chose the latter, Toadal Fitness rendered a Zen sanctuary by the existence of its childcare center. The Hot Box Yoga sauna was my refuge. You could lie supine within its womb-like walls in darkness and call it exercise.
A woman died in Zoom yoga and no one noticed. She fell from against the wall during dolphin pose. We were all on mute. Nobody heard the thud. Everyone else onscreen in gallery view was still inverted, balanced on sphinx-like forearms, legs behind extended straight up toward the ceiling, a stance that turned their bodies into almost perfect L’s. Her screen name read only “iPad.”
Featured in the anthology from Akashic Books' award-winning series. The book is available here!