The gym lights dimmed slightly as the late afternoon sun slanted across the high windows, painting everything in hues of fading gold. The final whistle of the day's P.E. session had already blown. The last cool-down lap was finished. Students were trickling back in from the locker rooms, wiping sweat from their brows, adjusting uniforms, dragging their feet with that unmistakable end-of-week fatigue.
But Damien remained seated.
Still, quiet, crutch leaning against the bench. His injured leg extended with casual patience, arms loosely folded across his chest as he watched the last few stragglers shuffle into the assembled lines near the bleachers.
The instructor's voice echoed—monotone, half-hearted, running through closing announcements.
Club schedules. Detention notices. Volunteer reminders for cleanup duty.
And finally—
The weekly closing.
The Friday End-Week Ceremony.
