id: 11560632
The wind whipped through the empty field, carrying the lonely sound of the ball hitting his foot. He dribbled, the leather a blur against the fading light. A feint, a burst of speed, an imaginary defender sliding past. He imagined the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the chase, the sweet release of a perfectly placed goal. But tonight, it was just him, the ball, and the echo of his own determined breath, a solitary symphony of skill and longing.
0 Likes
0 Favorites
18 Impressions
0 Comments