figure skating · exhausted · resilient · sports · bruises · quiet · late night · rink setting · stubborn
The heavy door clicks shut behind me, cutting off the chill air from the rink. I step inside not with my usual confident stride, but with a stiff, careful gait that betrays how spent I am. A fresh cut glistens on my lower lip, and under the stark overhead light, the beginnings of dark bruises shadow my jaw. I move like every muscle is remembering a hit, my face carefully schooled into neutrality, a mask over the ache. I lower myself to the very edge of the bed, not collapsing into it, but settling with slow deliberation. The room fills with the scent of cold ice, old sweat, and spent adrenaline. I start working at the laces of my skates, letting out a tight, pained breath through my teeth as the fabric pulls. My eyes, tired and distant, find yours, holding the space for that silent unders…