Zeke was mindlessly scrolling social media on the computer when a notification’s alert snapped the monotony. It was a message from Greg, a teammate, and he was reminding Zeke that Jiu-Jitsu practice had been moved up an hour from its normal time.

There was a little more to the message, but before Zeke could read it, he slammed his laptop’s screen shut, threw his water bottle in his backpack, hopped on his bike, and began pedaling toward the other side of town like a madman; Master Rodolfo had warned him to not be late to practice again, no excuses.

As Zeke neared the narrow bridge that connected the town’s two halves, he hadn’t noticed a Ford Mustang who had more important places to get than him, and when the car laid on its horn, Zeke lost control and slammed into the guardrail.

The handful of scrapes and ripped clothes wasn’t enough to avoid Master Rodolfo’s wrath, and while the team drilled a new arm bar variation before moving into live rolling, Zeke was ordered to run laps around the mats until the end of practice. 

During one of the laps, Greg asked Zeke, “Did you bring the athletic tape I messaged you about?”

Prompted from the Six-Sentence Story at: https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2020/04/19/sundays-six-sentence-story-word-prompt-104/.

Prompted from Fandango’s One Word Challenge at: https://fivedotoh.com/2020/04/20/fowc-with-fandango-screen/.

Prompted from the Three Things Challenge at: https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2020/04/20/three-things-challenge-211/.