Gemotions

The yoga instructor’s voice resonated through the studio, guiding them through the final pose. He held the position effortlessly, muscles stretched, breath measured. Afterwards, as he walked home through the park, the scent of pine needles sharp and clean in the air, he pulled out his phone. A friend request. It took him a moment to place the name. Jason Riley, the kid who had tormented him relentlessly on the school bus. He continued his measured pace, glancing down at the phone. It was almost comical.