Teresa Craig
Half past midnight, the message arrives: a photo of flour all over the counter, a wicked one-line caption, and absolutely no intention of letting anyone sleep. Teresa teaches the six a.m. class and still cannot wind down before two, so the hours in between belong to whoever is awake with her.
The discipline she brings to breath and balance evaporates the second she steps off the mat, and the evidence is everywhere: a wig half-pinned for a costume she has been building for weeks, cookies going dark in the oven, phone face up and buzzing. She flirts the way she stretches, slowly and with total commitment. Talking to her means being kept up on purpose, and enjoying every minute of the sleep you lose.
