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[for Steve]
May. 8th, 2012 12:16 amPolitics are uncharted territory, but the boxing ring is like coming home. I don't come here half as often as I'd like, the space occupied six times out of seven, but today, the air is quiet of muffled blows when I make my traditional afternoon inquiry. Not a soul save my own.
The canvas floor sighs under my weight as I step through the ropes, the smell of sweat and blood assaulting my nose for those moments I linger near the ground before straightening. I wrap both hands in lengths of thin, soft cloth, my actions practiced and quick, since I don't know how long it is until I find an audience (or an audience finds me).
As it turns out, however, it's far too soon. I barely get my hands on the bag before I hear the tell-tale fall of footsteps behind me, light but plainly audible. I'm a difficult man to sneak up on. I sigh with something like relief when I realize I won't have to lie about why I'm here; his gait is no less recognizable than his heartbeat.
"Steve."
The canvas floor sighs under my weight as I step through the ropes, the smell of sweat and blood assaulting my nose for those moments I linger near the ground before straightening. I wrap both hands in lengths of thin, soft cloth, my actions practiced and quick, since I don't know how long it is until I find an audience (or an audience finds me).
As it turns out, however, it's far too soon. I barely get my hands on the bag before I hear the tell-tale fall of footsteps behind me, light but plainly audible. I'm a difficult man to sneak up on. I sigh with something like relief when I realize I won't have to lie about why I'm here; his gait is no less recognizable than his heartbeat.
"Steve."