Ryan bowed his head slightly.
Not for show.
Not because anyone asked.
Because he remembered.
And outside, just beyond the front window, an old man in a brown jacket paused on the sidewalk.
Thomas Hale stood there for a moment, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his faded canvas bag.
He watched Ryan teach the children how to stand.
A faint smile touched his face.
Then he turned and walked on.
Inside, no one saw him.
Not that time.
But the bell above the door seemed to give the smallest sound anyway, though the door never opened.
Ryan paused.
Daniel looked toward the window.
Harold did too.
For one quiet second, the whole gym felt it.
A presence.
A memory.
A lesson still moving through the room.
Then Ryan turned back to the children.
“Again,” he said softly. “But better.”
And they tried again.
