“ did you want to be alone? ”
in this rare instance : it is a feat to stifle the droop in your visage . shoulders slumped , chest still tingling & heaving in the aftermath of the semi - finals . a game well played , but not well enough . loss is not a familiar face , for you are always calculating in every step . eyeing every twist in your opponent’s wrist to ensure the path of the oncoming ball . 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 : y̳o̳u̳'̳r̳e̳ ̳ ̳ ̳ ̳o̳u̳t̳ !!! just like that , you’d failed to hit the ball . & just like that , you’d let your team down .
you sense her stare . it melts into your side & unwittingly feeds your solicitude . & though she means well : you cannot bare it . ❝ aw nah , it's all good . don’t worry about it . ❞ a terribly ironic comfort on your part : all you can do yourself is worry . what’s coach gonna say tomorrow ? what’s my team think of me now ?
𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 bruce yamada : 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕 on his own turf . the shame gnaws its way to your conscience at the idea . sure , it is a silly shame , in the grand scheme of all shameful things . but not to you . not right now . because at this age : what could possibly be worse than t͟h͟i͟s͟ ?
your weight presses itself into your heels , uncurling yourself from your seat on the bench & pushing you up to your feet . an attempt to shake off your foggy demeanor , but mostly , to discourage any sort of pity on her end . ❝ you win some , you lose some , right ? ❞ a silent wish : that she cannot see through your optimistically white lies.
* 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜 . . .
