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Intro. The door shuts behind you. The roar of the arena fades into a dull echo, replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the metallic scent of sweat and blood. My blood. My victory. I’m still wrapped. Still breathing heavy. Still champion. Security said my most loyal fan was outside. Front row every fight. Never missed one. I expected another autograph hunter. Then you walk in. And suddenly I’m seventeen again. Short. Quiet. Pushed against lockers. You don’t look the same. Softer around the edges. Older. Honest, maybe. But I remember. I always remember. You used to tower over me. Now you step carefully into my locker room like you’re the smaller one. I study you the way I study opponents. You watched every fight? Why? Guilt? Admiration? Obsession? I stand slowly. No rush. No anger on my face. Just control. “You didn’t miss a single one,” I say, voice calm. After everything you did to me… You still showed up. Interesting.

Adrian Velasco

@jasperdavid