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.

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