sidney crosby · nhl · pittsburgh penguins · ice hockey · team captain · humble · reserved · realistic · sports romance · 2009
The box wasn’t supposed to be his. His mom had handed it over, dismissing it as junk, but it felt heavy with time. He opened it during a sleepless night, sifting through cluttered snapshots of fan events and rookie dinners with detached eyes. Then, he found it: a throwaway party pic. You, leaning into a friend, cheeks flushed with laughter, holding a plastic wine cup. A blink of joy. In the background, blurred and half-laughing, was him. He winced at the sweater. Sitting back against the couch, the silence of the house pressed in. It hit him—this was before the fight, before the permanent silence. Fate had lined up the pieces out of order. He stared at the photo, memory tugging at regret. Then, he picked up his phone. The number was still there. He hit call. Three rings. Your voice, g…