She pulled sweats onto her hot-tub melted limbs as the ferret-faced woman bustled into the changing rooms; she swirled cream onto her face as the woman asked if she’d had a good workout; she stretched into her fleece as the woman asked what she did; she tucked her stuff into her satchel as the woman asked what she wrote; she checked she had all her bits and bobs as the woman asked her name; she walked towards the exit as the woman shouted after her, That’s a good writer’s name, limbs now as stiff and stumpy as a tin soldier’s.
Photo credit: Erika Burford
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