October 2024 Flash Lit 2:1 - Stretched to the Limit

Marilyn eyed Derek suspiciously.  For one thing, he was young, still having the smooth, thick skin of a child in spite of his adult proportions.  Then there was the jargon.  He was on about chakras and asanas and mudras again.  Those were doubtless all useful thing—at least, Marilyn hoped so—but how could she tell from what he was saying?  And finally, there was the bracelet.  Marilyn knew it was narrow-minded of her, but she could not quite take Derek seriously because he was a man wearing wooden beads on an elastic string around his wrist.  It just looked silly.

But the doctor, nice, sensible, Dr. Chen, had suggested yoga in that way she had that was more like Marilyn’s mother’s if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you tone than Marilyn liked.  So here she was in her pale yellow track suit sitting on a mat that looked to be made of the same stuff she used under the wine glasses in the cabinet, except purple.  Why didn’t that stuff come in purple for cabinets?  That would be much more cheerful.

 

“Breathe in deeply.  Breathe out and let your thoughts follow the breath, clearing your mind.”

 

Right.  She was supposed to be paying attention.

 

Derek demonstrated how to put one’s arms in a prayer position, except that his arms were behind his back.  “This can help deepen the stretch in the chest and shoulders, arms, wrists, and hand,” he said.

 

Marilyn tried.  She really did.  Just like the time she’d tried to get into that shapewear tube thing for Ellen’s wedding.  But it was like wrestling an invisible python or something.

 

“Respect your body,” Derek said, glancing around the room at the class’s varying levels of success.  “Only stretch as far as you feel comfortable.”

 

There was a popping noise and then a rattle.  The elastic holding Derek’s bracelet together had snapped, dropping little wooden beads everywhere.

 

Marilyn got up, rolled up her mat, and headed for the door.  “I’m stretched to my limit,” she said.

 

She bought a cappuccino on the way home.