He bought it for fifty cents.
“You don’t have a balance board,” the trainer said. “So I can’t measure your weight. But I can measure other things.”
“I was made for one thing,” she said, her voice now coming from his laptop’s actual speakers, not the emulated ones. “To measure. To record. To compare.”
The screen split. On the left, a new image loaded: a living room, circa 2009. A woman in her forties, hair in a messy ponytail, stood on a real Balance Board. The TV reflected her face: tired, hopeful. A sticky note on the wall read: “Wedding – 6 months.”
