Getting over the weekend

Where am I?

She woke, fogged up by humidity.

And what?

After the gym, sweat pooled on her immaculate wooden floor as she swooped like a plane from its dive - downward to upward dog, thighs skimming the ground, arms pitching the tent of her body.

How much time do I have left?

15 minutes of toweling after her shower. Still, the second fabric caressed skin, spots dotted translucent through her white blouse.

What happened to the weekend?

She sipped the last of her tea and slipped on her shoes. Side-to-side, she shook her head. As much to clear her animus as the beads from her forehead. Shoulders straightened in preparation.

I have no idea what time is doing anymore. And she was out the front door.