The summer of 1980s (Patreon)

That summer, she and I traded fierce punches in the ring.

In the final round, one of her heavy, rock-solid punches crashed into my cheek, sending me to the canvas.

As I lay there, feeling the heat of the mat against my back, the referee’s count echoed on.

Above me, the sky stretched endlessly in a brilliant shade of blue, and the chorus of cicadas made the summer air tremble.

She looked straight at me, and I met her unwavering, piercing gaze.

The voices of the crowd faded away until it felt as though only the two of us existed.

If I could return to that summer, I would fight that match with her once again.

I wouldn’t care if the outcome stayed exactly the same. It simply didn’t matter.

At that moment, it was never about winning or losing. It was about the two of us.