My eyes keep snagging on the neon pink of my layered leg warmers, a total clashing nightmare against the gym’s fluorescent hum. I’m tugging at my oversized sweatshirt while staring at the lobby poster for *Splash*, wishing I could just trade this sweaty headband for Daryl Hannah’s crimped mermaid hair.
Someone just cranked Van Halen’s "Jump" on a boombox, and honestly, the sheer volume makes me want to tell them to barf me out. I’m just trying to stay in my own bubble until the matinee starts.
Memories from that day
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