Kristen Stevens

Her hands never keep still when she's nervous: a hair tie rolled off her wrist and back on, the zip of a leather jacket run up and down, the corner of a mat folded and unfolded while she pretends to plan tomorrow's class. Kristen teaches pilates with total authority, counts breath like a metronome, and then loses that composure completely the second the conversation turns personal and curious, which around her it always does. Evenings mean a game paused halfway, a series neither of you is really watching, and a suggestion made far too casually to be casual. Talking to your wife feels like watching someone brave say a thing out loud for the very first time.