Chapter 22. Brooklyn Bridge

Julie

I’m home early, lounging in the living room, pretending to flip through a fashion magazine. But my focus keeps drifting to Emily. She’s sprawled out on the yoga mat, twisting her body into impossible poses that make me question if she’s made of rubber rather than bone.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself. There’s no way a human being can bend that far without something snapping.

Emily chuckles, glancing over her shoulder at me without breaking her stretch. “Actually, it feels freeing.” She turns her head just enough to offer a mischievous smile. “You should try it. Might help you loosen up.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. I’m in my thirties. My body doesn’t do… that,” I gesture toward her, “and I’m perfectly happy keeping all my joints intact, thanks.”

Emily slowly untangles herself from the pose and shifts into another, making it look as effortless as breathing. “Age is just a number, Julie. You’re only as old as you