I'm not a boxer, but talking to you makes me feel like I am one.
You are a brawler and you fight dirty.
I'm not a boxer, but a dancer, strong and agile.
I can dance circles around you and leave you without a partner.
Every conversation starts off with a jab or two.
A few friendly punches, at first, until you land a low blow.
You always hit below the belt, never a knock out, but enough to try and knock me down.
I really don't get why.
I'm not a boxer. I am a dancer and the music I hear drowns out your noise.
I play along. Go with the flow, swing like a haymaker but end up kissing the canvas.
You can't keep me down, I am not a boxer and you're lucky there’s no ref to call foul.
Just you wait though.
I'll throw a feint and you'll fall through the ropes.
You won't know what hit you but you will be down for the count and I would have clinched the win.
You will look a fool because I am not a boxer.
If that is what I wanted, but it's not.
Let's call it a draw, go back to our corners, hang up the gloves and live to fight another day.
The problem is, I'm not a boxer and I'm off to dance alone.
Some people consider themselves athletes. Others do not. Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction in which athleticism features prominently. Use one of the photographs for inspiration.
Let’s try 400 words or less, please.