I lay in a heap on the hardwood floor. My limbs feel leaden; my calves are racked by severe pain.
My tongue, swelling in my mouth, feels as sharp and dry as sandpaper; my lips are parched. De hydrated and in agony, I don’t know how much more of this I can endure.
My tormentor is unrelenting in her demands of compliance. My fellow victims soldier on, finding strength deep within their cores. They do not falter. I am in awe.
A woman kneels down to offer encouragement.
I whisper, “Before I die, I gotta know…will my second Zumba class be easier?”