The simple wooden floor stretches out toward the mirrors on the east wall. Soft lights illuminate the space between my thumbs as I gaze down, while simultaneously pushing myself up into the upside-down V that is downward facing dog. And I breathe. Softly in through my nose, and out of my mouth. The wheeze at the back of my throat is barely audible. I inhale the space between the lavender walls. I hold the air in lungs that feel stretched to capacity. My bare toes arch up into heels that are tied to hamstrings and calf muscles that are too tight to release to the mat no matter how deeply I breathe. Bright blue toenails peek up cheerfully from the mountaintop scene depicted on my white yoga mat. Hugging my muscles to the bone, I am small. I have spent my life trying to be small - as small as possible. If one is successful at being small, they might even become invisible. To be invisible would be the best protection ever, except that I am also clumsy. ...