TRISTAN
The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the ocean with streaks of gold and crimson as I stared out from the balcony, my phone pressed to my ear. The weight of reality was settling in fast, and it wasn’t a weight I particularly liked carrying.
The new season was inching closer, and with it came the endless meetings, strategy discussions, and updates from the team. Pre-season scrimmages were on the horizon, a necessary evil to test the rookies and shake off the rust. Today’s meeting was focused on travel logistics and sponsorship obligations, and the voices on the other end of the line droned on about schedules, endorsements, and game-day expectations.
I leaned against the railing, letting the warm sea breeze brush over my skin as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I’ll be
