Thank you for not moving out of the way so I could get to my locker.
Thank you for spreading your ass and your stuff across an entire bench.
Your perfectly coordinated outfit and water bottle, ridiculously pink and expensive bag, gold cell phone, and spotlessly new pink and white Nikes are ever so cute.
Based on the look on your face and how you were moving, I would have sworn you’d just finished running 30K. Well, except that your hair and makeup were still, y’know, perfect when you took off your running shoes.
I can only assume that you’re telepathic, since you felt the need to stare at me intently while I put my coat on on the other side of the room. Was my mental snark that loud? Or did you just find my sweaty, red-faced, ripped t-shirt presence distasteful?
I’m so not going to miss you when you stop coming to the gym next month…