“I found her standing in her exercise kit, her wooden staff in her hand. Her hair was tied in a neat ponytail. She looked like Fa Mulan from our clan stories, legends passed down from generation to generation. Determined, yet a hint of fragility, of mortality.
I actually debated with myself if I would wear my exercise kit. I still experienced immense self-consciousness about my arm. When I saw April, my heart lifted. With a sigh, I grabbed the staff from its rack and gave it a preliminary swirl. The staff was a solid comforting weight in my hands.”