Font Size:
Coach is yelling something.
I don’t even hear the words. I just feel the rhythm.
The control. The dominance.
This—this is where I make sense.
Not the library.
Not the conversation.
Not the mess.
Here.
I call a play.
Drive.
Kick out.
Reset.
Then pull from deep?—
Swish.
The gym gets louder.
“VALE IS COOKING!”Someone yells it from the stands.
I don’t smile.
But I feel it.
That edge.
That flow.
That version of me that doesn’t hesitate. And for a second—I almost forget everything else.
Until—timeout.
I grab my jersey, wipe my face.
And that’s when I see her.
Not in the stands this time.
Closer.
Baseline.
Near the tunnel.
Stella.
Not watching the game.
