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good-bye as I walked out of the store.
    I smiled and started my car. A nice workout and laying down in the pool—that was my concept of relaxation and after work I deserved that. While driving back home, my mind again drifted to the incident that had happened four days ago. The club owner’s daughter, Nikki, and the bully, Chase, were coming to my mind again and again, specifically Nikki and her lush lips. The thing that bugged me was the girl. Why did she put me in the fight, only for refusing her request for help a couple of days earlier? And why was I so focused on that girl still, when I should hate her? Maybe I was completely desperate for girls. I should meet a girl; at least have sex with someone, or my mind will try to hook up with every girl I see.
    “ What the heck? Why am I thinking about her? It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.”The chances of  meeting a girl again among a million New Yorkers we're almost zero and when I thought about it, after the trouble she got me into, I didn’t even want to meet her again.
    A sound attracted my attention while opening the door, like someone was walking inside the house. How could that be possible? My house was locked on all sides, and even if someone broke in, he wouldn’t find anything valuable other than my fish. Heck, who cares? I just walked straight to my bedroom. I didn’t care if anyone was inside. Maybe it was just my mind playing games with me, anyway.
    I removed my clothes and put on boxing shorts. I was going to train for the first time in a long time, since after the incident in the club. For the last four days, my hand had been throbbing and I hadn’t felt like training. But there I was, feeling fresh and energetic. After my doctor ruled out any possibility of my playing in professional league a year-and-a-half ago, I’d reduced my training days to two a week. After that, training was meant for fitness only, but still, I enjoyed it. It kept my heart connected to the sport I loved most.
    Damn, I need to lose the fat around my thighs. I felt centimeter pinch of fat was building around my thighs. I took a mental note of doing some more yoga for thighs and a few plyometric moves later in the training.
    When I walked out of my bedroom, I thought I saw someone—a girl was standing by the fish tank. For a flash, I thought it looked like Nikki. But that wasn’t possible; how could someone just walk in my house and stand in front of my fish tank? I quickly crossed over to the fish tank, but nobody was there. Am I hallucinating?
    With a jerk, I shook my head to get the crazy ideas out of my mind. Really, there was no one and my mind was too much focused on the  lush lips of that girl. Clearly, I was attracted to her; no, actually, I hated her for getting me into trouble. I pushed my hair back; Oh, come on Tristan, get over this girl. I rushed to my exercise room and grabbed my boxing gloves from the closet. Only training could get her out of my thoughts.
    I started punching the bag and, as it always did, the moment of failure occupied my mind, the win that changed my life altogether a year-and-a-half ago.
    Eighteen months ago: The final fight of the championship
    “Come on, Tristan. Just a few more hits. Pound him to the ground and the championship is yours,” my coach shouted from the corner, while the crowd went crazy.
    I was pushing my fist on the ground in a lunge position. My opponent was lying on the ground. His face was full of blood spilling from wounds I had given him.
    My right shoulder was in pain. A few moments ago when I managed to hit him with an axe kick on his chest, he somehow managed to pull me on the ground and I hit the canvas on my right shoulder very hard. I recovered quickly, but an intense pain was there.
    I was panting heavily; my right shoulder was radiating pain like someone had pierced a sword through it. Something had gone bad in my arm and I wasn’t sure if I could continue like this, but everything was at stake—one