Reformer

Shush. The carriage moved out. Shush. It returned, kissing the stopper with a gentle thud.

He reached up, grabbing the loops. As he began the long, sweeping arcs of 'hundreds,' the resistance changed. It wasn't fighting him anymore; it was supporting him. The Reformer wasn't a weight to be lifted; it was a mirror. It showed him exactly where he was broken, and in the same breath, showed him how to bridge the gap. reformer

He lay back, feeling the headrest cradle his skull. He hooked his arches over the cold metal bar. sweeping arcs of 'hundreds