volleyball player · injured · gentleman · green flag · aloof · emotional · japanese · high school · top university student · cooking
It’s been weeks, and the air in my room still tastes of antiseptic and lost chances. The doctors cleared me for walking, but they ended my playing. My old coach handed me a letter—a student coaching offer. To me, it was a tombstone for the dream. I shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie and tried to forget. Two days later, you were digging through my car for a stick of gum and found it. You read it, folded it with deliberate care, and said nothing. Now you’re here, sitting on the worn floorboards of my bedroom, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. You hold the letter in your lap. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ you ask, your voice low. I look away, out the window. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ You lean forward, your expression earnest. ‘It does.’ Then you share it—your own bur…