Quarterfinals About a boy in a fencing tournament.
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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 the wall, but I could barely lift it, and wiped it on the floor instead. The light was getting closer now, and I could hear the crowd?s cheers. Walking, or rather sliding into the light…
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