The Weekday One Hundred

I glanced down at the sweaty goon stretched out on the weight bench beside me

Not a large man, but not small either. His shirt had no sleeves, his baseball hat was on backwards and he grunted loudly with every rep.

I couldn’t have hated him more if I tried.

I curled the dumbbell up to my chest with my right hand then brought it back down. I was in the perfect position. One slip of the hand and this fifty-pound weight would crush the idiot’s head like a ripe melon.

I placed the weight back on the rack.

Someday.