The Sunday morning sun felt heavier than usual as it crept across the floor of the Zenith. Jake opened his eyes and immediately felt the dull, rhythmic throb in his right hand. He sat up, flexing his fingers experimentally. The knuckles were a mess of dark purple and blue, but the skin hadn't split again overnight. He stayed there for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, just listening to the hum of the building's climate control.
'I probably shouldn't have hit him that hard,' he thought, looking at the bruise. 'Not because he didn't deserve it, but because I need this hand for more than just punching people.'
He forced himself out of bed. A workout seemed like a terrible idea given the state of his hand, but the thought of sitting still felt worse. He grabbed a fresh set of gym clothes and headed down to the fitness center on the lower floors.
