The End of Days
Today, for the last time, I got on the treadmill and walked to the tune of ‘Rudebox’.
Today, for the last time, I worked my legs out on the weird machine that looks like it’s preparing you for childbirth by proxy.
Today, for the last time, I took a shower in a stall designed for an anorexic stick insect, or possibly, Kate Moss.
Today, the gym shut down.
The gym is dead. Long live the gym.