From my soon-to-be-released Short Stories for the Soul: “In the Ring” I clenched my tired fists. Sweat soaked the leather inside the bulbous gloves, and I couldn’t remember when I’d last taken them off. High-intensity lights glared down from a broad ceiling. A square of three taut ropes surrounded me, a mat at my feet. Beyond that everything was gray. In front of me stood my opponent. I swung and struck him. A weak hit, but I forgave myself for that. Hits lose strength as they lose count. He did not strike back. He was a tricky one. He would…