o6

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Getting up early to workout was customary for Maze, so easy she could do it in her sleep.

The gym at the apartment complex was top notch and almost always empty, bereft of anything except sunlight, equipment, wall-to-wall mirrors, and the lingering scent of rubber. She adored everything about it. Oftentimes her coworkers would ask how her physique stayed in such good shape, though they would much rather believe she removed her rib since surgery was more attainable to them than a healthy gym routine.

"I can't commit to that," they'd say, as if it was a marriage of man and metal but it could never be so complicated, in fact, it was very simple- the secret to maintaining daily exercise was problems, problems, and more fucking problems.

Most people liked to sit and talk to a shrink, perhaps she needed one, but nothing could compare to the high she felt from feeling her muscles burn, from sweating profusely. It was euphoric. Transcendent. It felt like if she worked out hard enough, she'd slip right out of her body, float up,up and away and that would be it. Everything would disappear, she'd live the life of a bird. She'd live the life of a feather. No bills, no problems, no boyfriends, no best friends, no mommy issues, just air. Wasn't that freedom?

And about those mommy issues...

Maze's mother called this morning. She had read the glowing time on her phone groggily: six-o'clock. The sun hadn't even decided to rise yet, its creep up into the sky slowly painting her room cotton candy pink. If she wasn't so annoyed, she would've appreciated the beauty of the moment.

"Hello?" She asked wearily, with frogs in her throat that she didn't bother to clear.

"Good morning, Maze."

Unconvincingly she replied, "Good morning, indeed."

"We need to have a chat."

"About?"

"Repairing our relationship."

"I'm good."

"Nowhere did I ask, Maze. It was a blatant statement. We are having breakfast, possibly an early lunch, and we are going to settle our differences once and for all. Don't be difficult."

"I'm so tired of hearing you tell me what I should and shouldn't be." Her voice cracked. She sounded so young when she said that, she hated how her mother had a way of making her smaller, making her that fifteen year-old, twelve, eight-year-old girl, that just wanted her voice heard.

"You've had a break from it, anyway."

"Not long enough."

She sighed. "I'll be expecting to meet with you within the week. I thought it'd be easier to set a date together but you seem determined to act like an intolerant child. Mommy will handle things. And once I decide when and where we'll meet, I'll text you the details...just make yourself available."

Then she hung up.

Immediately Maze knew that if she wanted to start this day off right, she would have to reset her intentions because the call from her mother was the omen of doom.

"Today will be great." She mumbled. "Today will be great, today is great. I'll be damned if I let Mommie Dearest ruin that."

She let the quiet clinging of sleep take her into a deep rest but it had only been two hours before the vibrating of her phone started up again.

It was a text from Shebazz.

we need to talk.

Apparently when she left the club, videos of her steamy performance began to circulate, they were tagging her, tagging Blu, and the exclusively messy people who knew a little more about Maze were tagging her boyfriend. That didn't surprise her, it was customary. Maze had few people she would describe as enemies yet a lot of people she would describe as haters. They would smile in her face, try to befriend her and secretly be praying on her downfall all the while.

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