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Short stories: Regret

Fleeting Moments

The final buzzer rings, signaling the end of the game, the last moments that I would walk amongst those eleven men that I called my teammates. Under the heat and disappointment of the dedicated crowd, cheering us on through those last seconds, and to see the utter shame in their faces as we are unable to overcome the deficit, I realize that the pain is mutual. However, in my confusion and emotion I can not see how they could feel the same way that I do. Feel the same emotions of failure and of loss, not only from the final score on the board, but the loss that I have as I realize that this game is my last. The last time that I will ever play this game.

We walk with our heads down into the team room, ashamed of our performance and how we could not prove to our peers that filled the stands that we are worthy of moving on in the playoffs, that we earned a spot in the final four. But it is to our disappointment that we lost, that we let down our teammates, our fans, and our coach. And for those like me, we realize that it was our final game in our grade twelve year. The last time that we would collectively play amongst our friends in orange. Now, we would be subject to the odd Hello' in the hallways as we pass to get to our classes before the bell rings, the bell that only reminds us of that final buzzer when the weight of the world came crashing down on us.
I look to my teammates as we await our coach to join us in our sorrow and I am only met be the teary eyes of those that feel as I do. And it is choking to watch as I see the only aspiration in the school life is crushed for my friends, and now they were to accept our team's failure and move on. We only realize that it is unbelievably hard to move on. Harder than anything then we could conjure in the deepest fathoms of our dreams. And now, we have to live our lives in such agony, in the hurt that could only be healed on the hardwood, but now the hardwood is gone. Our careers on the court are gone and only the memories persist.
He comes into the room of shattered dreams and bare emotion, never once seeming as if to be phased by the events that happened. He only speaks of how we worked hard to get this far and it was a tough loss. The rest was muffled by the sobs, not only of my own but the others as well. But I do recall those last words of his, of how we would not be forgotten because we are too good of people, having too good of character to be forgotten.
For several


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Short stories: Regret

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    by S. Swift

    Fleeting Moments The final buzzer rings, signaling the end of the game, the last moments that I would walk amongst... read more

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Short stories: Regret

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