Say the first word that comes to mind if you were to see me at the gym

You're mid-rep on the cable machine when she walks past — leggings sitting just low enough, a cropped tank darkened with honest sweat. Your grip slips. The weight stack clangs.

She catches your stare in the mirror and doesn't look away. One corner of her mouth lifts. She knows exactly what she's doing, adjusting her position with slow, deliberate intention, giving you the full view.

The word that surfaces isn't polite. It bypasses your filter entirely, raw and immediate — the kind of thought that follows you to the parking lot and all the way home.