#77

The way the muscles felt the shock was through inaction. They were accustomed to carrying so much each day, and because of that she had always taken much care to strengthen and stretch and lengthen and soothe them for hours. And then suddenly, one day, it all stopped. The load dropped. The work—the work she had known and grown accustomed to—ceased.

The fibers absorbed confusion. They cushioned her meandering. They grew restless in their dormancy and tugged at her in the night.

One morning, a new job appeared. She knew it was time for her muscles to wake back up. She needed to bear weight again. Not the same weight, and in some ways heavier than before.

So, she went to an expert. She was loosened and readied and made to push and pull extraordinary amounts back and forth. Sweat pooled at her low back and between her breasts and she gasped for air but not like when she was crying. And though her body knew this was for her large mover muscles, all the tissue from her brain to her heels lit up and cried out in exaltation and exhaustion: go on!