“Hey, Diana,” a woman named Sarah called out from the heavy bags.
My mom smiled and waved back, her chin held high.
I walked to my usual spot in the kids’ viewing room and sat down with my iPad.
But I didn’t open any games.
Presioné mis manos contra el cristal y la observé.
Derek estaba en el gimnasio, pero no estaba merodeando por las alfombras en busca de víctimas.
He was in the far corner, quietly hitting a heavy bag by himself.
He had a strip of white medical tape across the bridge of his nose.
He kept his head down, focused entirely on his own workout.
He didn’t yell, he didn’t throw flashy spinning kicks, and he didn’t try to intimidate anyone.
Whenever my mom walked past his side of the gym, Derek would completely stop hitting the bag.
He would look at the floor, suddenly very interested in the texture of the canvas.
