He’s naked. Every curve of muscle, every scar and tattoo a stark contrast to the sharp lines of his body. He stands at rapt attention; his form perfect and his sword arm unwavering. His eyes are closed as he centers and grounds himself. I love watching him like this. Drives him nuts, but he’s too disciplined to break and tell me to go away. Resting on the dew-wet grass, I sit quietly for that moment that always comes.
Every morning he comes out here and does his exercises. Some mornings it’s simple calisthenics, others he takes off for a run around the woods nearby. But today is special, and that’s why I’m out here slowly letting dew soak through my pants as the sun breaks the horizon.
