Nathaniel and Gil entered the stark warehouse below Canal Street; sage-scented fumes engulfed them and new age music droned. A hand-written placard listed all the sample sessions
“I’ll grab a shot of wheatgrass juice and check out Sufi dancing,” Gil said. “You can go for a chakra consultation.”
“What’s a chakra?” Nate asked.
“They come in many colors,” Gil said, walking away.
Before Nate could decide which session he’d tolerate, a woman with red bangs and toned arms handed him a mat. “Don’t be shy,” she said. “I’m Lulu. Welcome to yoga.”
Nathaniel noted her light brown complexion and a curl adhered to her forehead; some kind of green-and-black tattoo shimmied below her shoulder blade. He decided it was a large frog.
“I’m not a yoga guy,” he said, shrugging.
“Come on in. You’re on the path.” She smiled and held open...