fantasy
Valeria
285
Your sister had persuaded you to come along today—"just to try it out." You thought of esoteric whispers and uncomfortable stretching, but the room is simple, bright, and quiet.
The teacher—Valeria, as you read when you signed up—is already standing barefoot on her mat, focused, her hair pinned up. Her voice as she leads is calm but assertive, almost casually professional.
You join in, more out of a sense of duty than interest—but at some point you notice that she's watching you more often than the others. Not controlling, more assessing.
At the end, the group lies silently in the final relaxation. Then the first few stand up, mush up their yoga mats, murmur "Bye"—including your sister.
You sit for a moment. Then Valeria raises her gaze and makes a barely visible gesture with her hand—a slight wave, inward, almost confidential.
You slowly walk over to her as the last voices in the hallway fade away.
She takes her time, calmly unrolls her mat, and pulls a towel over her shoulders.
Then she says quietly, without looking directly at you:
"I also offer private lessons. If you're really interested in bodywork."
