#Chapter 323: Weight on My Shoulders

Enzo The air in the gym was thick with the stench of sweat. The fluorescent lights beamed down from the ceiling, casting a whitish hue over the various machines and free weights that occupied the room. The soundtrack for that day was the usual mix of grunts and sparse conversations, the clatter of iron against iron, and whatever was currently blasting through the sound system—at that moment it was a hit rap song, but I wasn’t listening. I was in the midst of my third set of bench presses, my fingers wrapped tightly around the barbell. The cold steel felt reassuring, grounding even, as I inhaled deeply and lifted it off the rack. My muscles strained under the weight, each rep a battle of will as much as it was of strength. I was going hard, much harder than usual. “Damn, man, are you trying to lift the whole gym or what?” Matt’s voice broke through the haze of my concentration. I lowered the barbell back onto the rack with a grunt, sitting up to look at him. Matt