Deep silence would have filled the room if not from Elliot's racing heartbeat and ragged breathing from time to time. The room was scanty, making his eyes bored so easily from a short wander, never darted on the bland, brick walls, and just stared at the damp floor, trickling from his sweat.
It was such an enclosure, and he never knew what time it was; not even the warmth of the sunlight or the grace of moonlight basked him in the distance.
But even if he was that deprived, he never let go of how he must make himself productive at the moment.
Apparently, Elliot propped his palms on the floor as he continued with reps of push-ups.
The only thing that counted from his head were several numbers, then back to its countdown.
Claps and thuds, along with his huffs, beat and a lot rigorous for a while now. Sweat enamored his body, donning the skin like it was clothing. His muscles tensed every time he put a force to it.
