Thursday was gym day. Not a “maybe” day. A clear day.
Alex tied his shoes extra tight because loose laces were unprofessional. At the gym, the air smelled like rubber mats and effort. Music thumped like it had somewhere important to be.
Alex lifted, pushed, jumped, and ran. He counted quietly, except when he forgot the numbers and made them up instead. Eleven, twelve, banana, fourteen.
Between sets, he wiped his forehead and grinned. He liked how his body felt strong and buzzy, like it had been charged.
Mama finished her set too. Alex gave her a thumbs-up. Teamwork mattered.
On the way home, his legs felt tired but proud. He drank water like a champion and announced that Saturday was also gym day, just in case anyone forgot.
Promises were like muscles. You had to use them.
“Strong days start with keeping small promises.”
