Mike Betts and Rick Wolfnier stand shoulder to shoulder against a wall, one with legs spread wide on a chair, the other’s arm raised as if bracing against a headboard, both muscles taut beneath smooth, unblemished skin. The dark-haired, clean-shaven man squats on a bed, hands on knees, while the other leans into a window sill, his posture rigid with controlled tension. Every pose locks them in place, legs bent, one leg raised, a hand gripping a surface, like they’re frozen mid-motion, their bodies stretched between surfaces as if testing how far they can go.
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