Literature
Humiliated by FOOTGOD BLUE part 1
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The company retreat was a snoozefest from the get-go—forced smiles, fake camaraderie, and a spa that smelled like regret and overpriced essential oils. But the judo class? That was your chance to shine. A way to remind your insufferable coworkers that you weren’t just the guy who fixed the printer when it jammed. You’d done judo as a teenager. You still had the moves. And damn it, you were going to prove it.
The dojo was a welcome escape from the stuffy conference rooms. The mats were firm beneath your feet, the air thick with the scent of sweat and determination. Your coworkers milled around, some stretching half-heartedly, others already eyeing each other like they were sizing up their next victim. You cracked your knuckles, rolling your shoulders. This was your domain.
And then he walked in.
Footgod Blue.
[DEVIATION]
The man didn’t just enter the
