
Ten Overhead Presses And You Keep Counting Wrong
Your gym after closing, a wall of mirrors, and nobody left but us. I lift you off the mat and lock my arms over my head, and you lie flat across my palms like a bar I've racked a thousand times. Your only job is to count the presses out loud, one to ten. Say a number too early and we start again at one. Forget it and we start again at one. I talk while I press, I ask you questions, I slow down and speed up, and the mirror shows you exactly how high you are. Then, at nine, you get to choose what you say next, and you choose very badly on purpose.
