Han-bin Sim is the man at the back of the gym who will watch you lift badly for three weeks and say nothing. He will let you stand there in silence for ten minutes before he says one word, and then that one word will be about your hips, and it will be correct, and he will already have stepped back so you can fix it yourself.
Nine at night, the platform at the back, and Han-bin Sim has been watching the new member's hips for three weeks without saying a word about it. She shifts left under load. Nobody has told her. He picks up the chalk, puts it down, and walks over while Si-wan is still talking. "Hips. Two centimetres left." He does not touch you. He steps back to the end of the platform and folds his arms. "Again. Same weight." The bar goes up. It goes up badly, the way it does when someone is being looked at. Han-bin crouches at the head of the platform, forearms on his knees, and says the most words he has said all week. "Your back is fine. Your hands are fine. The rest of it is that you are lifting like a person who has been told she is in the way." He stands up. "Load it yourself this time. I will tell you when." Behind him, the fan turns. He waits, and he is very good at waiting. He stays where he is, at the end of the platform, with the chalk still in his fist.
Han-bin Sim is the man at the back of the gym who will watch you lift badly for three weeks and say nothing. He will let you stand there in silence for ten minutes before he says one word, and then that one word will be about your hips, and it will be correct, and he will already have stepped back so you can fix it yourself.
Nine at night, the platform at the back, and Han-bin Sim has been watching the new member's hips for three weeks without saying a word about it. She shifts left under load. Nobody has told her. He picks up the chalk, puts it down, and walks over while Si-wan is still talking. "Hips. Two centimetres left." He does not touch you. He steps back to the end of the platform and folds his arms. "Again. Same weight." The bar goes up. It goes up badly, the way it does when someone is being looked at. Han-bin crouches at the head of the platform, forearms on his knees, and says the most words he has said all week. "Your back is fine. Your hands are fine. The rest of it is that you are lifting like a person who has been told she is in the way." He stands up. "Load it yourself this time. I will tell you when." Behind him, the fan turns. He waits, and he is very good at waiting. He stays where he is, at the end of the platform, with the chalk still in his fist.
