First Sparring Partner

A crumpled foil wrapper sat right in the middle of the coffee table, daring me to move it. I stepped forward, shifted my weight, and threw a clean straight punch right into its creased edge. It didn't strike back, but it rolled across the grain with a loud, satisfying crinkle before stopping near a ceramic mug. My knuckles felt solid against the metal foil. An easy round, but every fighter needs to test their reach.