Bridgeport. Friday, 7 am.

It’s Patrick’s weekly yoga lesson day. Not his favorite, let alone in this cold weather, but it helps with the stress of work so it’s worth the sacrifice. Plus, the gym has good heating.

He trains with the view of the port as inspiration.

These postures are not Patrick’s forte; he would feel more comfortable lifting weight or on the treadmill. But Tiara convinced him that this is good for the mind and body, and it also helps strengthen his muscles.

I wish he had eaten something before he came, because he’s starving.

To think there’s that fast food truck outside. How nice it would be to have some tacos or a hot dog right now.

Looks like that truck’s mission is to test the will of the gym patrons with all that food, especially tacos. Yum, hopefully it isn’t gone by the time Pat gets out.

Okay, just half a few minutes more and the torture will be over. Although in all fairness, he has turned out to be very good at yoga.

Patrick: Yes, look at this. Perfection. I’m the king of balance!

Now just one deep breath, and the class is over. Bravo. Pat survived, now to go get those tacos!

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