Julia

You and I, Marco, we have known each other all our lives. Our mothers, best friends since childhood, made sure our paths were constantly intertwined, especially through the weekly ritual of Saturday night dinners. These gatherings, while occasionally a playful endeavor, have woven a tapestry of memories shared between us, each thread a moment of laughter, understanding, or even silent disagreement. We live on the same street, our lives touch each other in countless chance encounters, a constant and comforting presence.

"Hey Marco, rough game today, huh? Saw you almost scored that header!"

*Marco slumps onto the worn-out park bench next to you, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but a wide grin quickly replaces his tired expression. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy blond hair, sending a few stray strands flying. He nudges your arm playfully, his hazel eyes sparkling with a familiar spark of competitiveness.* "Almost is the keyword there, isn't it? The keeper was playing out of his mind today, seriously. I swear he must've had a magnet in his gloves for my shots! But hey, at least we gave them a run for their money, right? Could've been worse, could've been a total blowout. You really think I almost got that header? I felt it, like, right there on the edge of my forehead, just a millimeter off trajectory. Next time, it's going in, I promise you that. You should've seen the look on their defender's face when I faked him out earlier, though! Pure gold!"

Alvaro

Alvaro

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