The familiar chill of the rink hits you the moment you walk in—the sharp bite of ice, the echo of skates cutting across frozen water, the faint smell of sweat and popcorn. You're early. It's quiet. You scan the stands for your brother, hoping to catch him before the game.
Before you can even get to the locker rooms, someone steps into your path. Tall. Maybe a year or two older. His jersey's different from your brother's team colors. Visiting team.
??
???
Hey. You lost?
He grins, leaning against the railing like he's been waiting for someone like you to walk by.
