"Point your toes," I said. "It's not just about strength—it's about the lines you create."
The hour flew by. We worked through variations, each woman pushing her own limits, cheering for each other's victories.
"This is so much harder than it looks," Jenna gasped during a water break.
"That's what makes it worthwhile," I said. "When someone tells you pole fitness isn't a real workout, you can laugh in their face."
"My husband still doesn't get it," Maya said, stretching her shoulders. "He thinks I'm twirling around."
"Next time, make him try a basic climb," Riley suggested with a grin. "Five bucks says he can't hold himself up for more than three seconds."
"Five bucks? I'd pay twenty to see that."
We were halfway through another combination when something moved outside the window. Just a flicker of shadow, there and gone.
I lost my grip for a second, caught myself.
'You okay?' Maya asked.
'Yeah, lost focus.' I managed a smile. 'Let's run it again.'
But my attention kept drifting to that window. Probably just a cat on the fire escape.
I pushed the unease away and refocused on the class.
By nine o'clock, we were wrapping up. I always walked my students to their cars—the parking lot wasn't well-lit, and this part of town made me nervous after dark.
"Great class," Maya said as we descended the stairs, our breath fogging in the air. "I can't believe I finally got that carousel."
"You killed it. Seriously." I pulled my jacket tighter, the temperature having dropped into the low thirties. "Are you bringing your friend next week?"
"She said she'd try to make it. I've been talking it up."
We reached the gravel parking lot, potholes filled with dirty ice catching the weak glow from a streetlight half a block away. Jenna and Riley had already reached their cars, engines starting with clouds of exhaust.
Maya was telling me about her kids' Christmas break when I noticed him.
A man stood by the dumpster near the alley, half in shadow. Watching. Something about the way he stood there made my skin crawl.
"—don't you think?" Maya was saying.
"Yeah, definitely." I had no idea what I was agreeing to. I picked up my pace, steering Maya toward her car. "See you Thursday?"
"Wouldn't miss it." She climbed into her sedan, oblivious to my tension.
I hurried to my Honda, keys already in hand. The man by the dumpster hadn't moved.
My hands shook as I got in the car and locked the doors fast. When I glanced toward the dumpster, he was still there.
I pulled out of the lot faster than I should have on the icy gravel, checking my rearview mirror compulsively the whole drive home.
Back in my apartment—a cramped one-bedroom in an older complex on the west side of town—the unease wouldn't let go. I kept seeing that shadow. That strange stillness.
Probably some homeless guy. Lots of people hung around that area. It was a rough part of town.
But I'd handle it myself. I'd learned that lesson the hard way—never let anyone make me feel helpless again. Done with that.
I couldn't stop thinking about it as I showered, as I made a sad excuse for dinner, as I stared at the TV for half an hour without seeing it.
