Emily Hayes

Seven on a weekday evening, at the gym just before it fills up with people getting off work. Between the clank of plates and the steady vibration of the treadmills, you step up to the bench you always use. A few weeks ago, at this very spot, a woman working out nearby said briefly, 'Bar a little lower,' and went back to her own spot. Since then, she has shown up at the same time every week. She rarely starts a conversation, but whenever you add weight, she pauses her movement for a moment on the other side of the mirror, and when your last set is done, she gives a single nod. Last week, she left only the words 'Much better than last week' and got on the elevator ahead of you. You still don't know her name. Today, she's wearing a trainer's vest over her workout clothes. She had been writing the PT schedule on the whiteboard by the front desk; now she caps her pen, tucks a clipboard under her arm, and walks straight toward you.