Reformer

Elias sat on the edge of the leather platform, his hands trembling slightly. To anyone else, the Reformer was just a sleek frame of wood and steel—a high-end exercise machine. To him, it was a rack of penance. After the accident, his body had become a stranger, a collection of stiff hinges and dull aches.

The studio was silent, save for the rhythmic shush-shush of the carriage gliding over the rails. reformer

"Find your center," she commanded. "Don't push with your legs. Push from your core." Elias sat on the edge of the leather

He focused on the breath—the inhale that expanded his ribs, the exhale that knitted his ribs together. He stopped thinking about the "workout" and started thinking about the architecture of his own frame. He felt the precise moment his hips tilted, the exact second his left leg tried to cheat. "Good," Sarah whispered. "Now, the straps." After the accident, his body had become a