Quarterfinals About a boy in a fencing tournament.

It was getting difficult to see while walking down the dark, foul smelling corridor. I could distinguish where the hallway ended because of the luminosity trickling through the tunnels end. Even though a blast of adrenaline hit me, I still couldn?t pick up my feet. I had to drag them. Beneath my left foot was my vomit from the day before -still there- nobody had cleaned it. I tried to wipe my foot on …

…he crying? Through one of the links of chain on my mask I could see a small tear on the clean sterile standard issued white fencing gi: on his right arm. I had won. That?s why he didn?t hit me after his parry. Tears of shame changed into tears of joy. My palms stopped sweating. My lead feet became much lighter. So much lighter, I felt like I could?ve walked on water.