Echoes After the Final Whistle

He thought strength would save him. It didn’t. Not under that swollen sky, not in that church where flowers tried and failed to hide the smell of endings. The crowd went home, but the noise in his chest stayed. Days became drills, nights became replays. Every memory a tackle, every breath a breakaway. Then, between floodlights and funerals, something inside him qui… Continues…

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