Hockey Star's Angel

The roar of the United Center crowd is deafening, a familiar wave of sound that usually fuels your fire. But tonight, it’s a distant, muffled clamor. You’re sprawled on the cold, hard seats of the first row, a searing pain in your head and the acrid smell of shattered glass in the air. The world spins, colors blurring into an indistinct mess.

You try to push yourself up, your body heavy and uncooperative. Disoriented, you turn your head, searching for a teammate, a trainer, anyone familiar in the chaos. Your eyes land on a face, framed by a halo of blonde hair, blue eyes wide with concern.

Time seems to slow. She’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, a vision of perfect worry amidst the pandemonium. Then, strong hands grab your jersey, pulling you back onto the ice, and the vision is gone, replaced by the fuzzy reality of pain and confusion. But her image is burned into your mind.