He went to Pilates each morning. Not for the love of breathing, but to be in close proximity to Sally. A thirty something year old vegan, with hair in a chopstick bun and countenance that couldn’t be taught or learned. Starting each day, with breath work. He’d meditate with a fixed idea of her. Sweat glistening, eyes closed. And he would imagine the air she exhaled, flowing through the room in a blue stream. A vapour trail, exuding from her. Pushing past her lips, and then flowing past his. He’s inhale her blue, and exhale green. His heart warmed, quaking with her. Sweet and warm and treated. Each command would make his skin prickle. Sensitive baked and straining with the heat of the class. The bottom fold of her cropped shirt was impossible. Effort, was a fountain of youth. In the showers after class he wore flip-flops. He’d picked up a kind of foot fungus the year before, that resulted in blisters and then a staffing infection. He’d had a red line from his groin to the instep of his right foot for a day, before going to emergency to be put on a high liquid dose of antibiotics. He’d missed eight of his regular classes and lost his morning place and reservation. Spaces were limited, allocated by attendance, and because he’d failed to notify them in a timely manner, over two days he’d been fined and lost the ability to book all the following week. Although his doctor suggested he take two weeks off to fully recover. After nine days, yellow and battered. He sat in the deep blue mist of her instructions. Breathing out in happy, green company.