Hajin hit the floor of the room with both palms and pushed himself back up, his arms steady and his breathing even while the morning sun cut through the tall windows beside the bed.
'One-ninety-eight,' he counted, dropping again, 'one-ninety-nine.'
He pushed up one more time and held it at the top, feeling the burn sit deep in his shoulders before he finally dropped flat and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while his chest rose and fell.
'Two hundred,' he thought, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 'Not bad for someone who could barely finish fifty a week ago.'
The steak from last night was the best thing he had eaten in years, maybe ever. Three cuts of seasoned meat, a bowl of garlic soup, bread that was still warm from the oven, and something sweet at the end that Juna had stolen off his plate before he could even look at it properly.
