Ezra
I like the training field best at dusk, cool air, lights even and fewer people cutting across the mats to grab selfies. I set my chest cam to 60 fps, check the angle on my phone, and hit record. The timer app gives me three quick beeps. Rounds will run two minutes on, one off.
Allison stretches beside me, hoodie off, wraps snug, hair tied high. She rolls her shoulders and bounces on the balls of her feet. The bruise on her forearm from Darius is a faint line now. She taps it once, testing range, and then drops into stance.
'Say it clean when it's time,' Damon says. 'No almost.'
"Warmup first," I say. "Shadow four-count. Then we add the slip and pivot."
She nods. We mirror each other through the pattern; jab, cross, rear-step, pivot off the lead foot, recover. Her foot
