“
I. Will. Fly. Again. Every word is a squat, and every squat is a word. The mantra keeps me going, balancing on the stability ball as my physical therapist, Elliot, counts reps. That promise to myself holds my back straight and my hands steepled in front of me, even as my thighs burn and my knees shake. I. Will. Fly. Again. Every part of me hurts. I can’t squat—not even one more time—and I think a headache might be starting. I want to stop. I need to stop. But Elliot is still counting.
”
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