Adjustments

by Sudha Balagopal

He walks into my yoga class with a black mat rolled up under his arm. My eyes are drawn to his toenails; they’re painted a deep, dark purple. A sleeveless tank reveals sculpted biceps, short shorts hug muscular thighs. His long hair is secured in a pony tail.

As if he wants to hide, he settles in a far corner by the wall.

A novice. And cute, I think, then tuck that thought away for later examination.

In a few minutes, Purple-Toenails removes his shirt and the thought is brought out for airing.

Guilt washes over me. I should be examining my recent broken relationship, analyzing how I chose so wrong.

“Inhale and exhale through the nostrils,” I instruct. “The mouth remains closed.”

The air comes gushing out of his nostrils like he’s been holding his breath. Already, I see beads of sweat on his forehead.

I’ve…