Hugo smiled as he entered the gym. He sidestepped the faulty floorboard and strode forty-eight exact feet to the practice ring. Nothing had changed.
Marcus was there, as Hugo expected, scrubbing the canvas. A legendary boxing coach, Marcus still cleaned the ring himself. It was his church, he claimed. Nothing had changed.
Marcus looked up, eyes widening on seeing his most famous student.
‘Champ…’ Hugo unleashed a massive right hook to his old coach’s temple. The old man crumpled and lay still.
A young boy came, crying, from the showers. He looked at Hugo, and Marcus’ body at his feet. Hugo smiled.
Something had to change.