The Golden Quest
The rain on the windowpane was not water. It was a warning. I stood before the mirror in the dressing room of the St. Jude’s Gymnasium, adjusting the collar of my white gi. The fabric was stiff, unwashed, smelling of chalk and old sweat. I looked at my hands. They were trembling. Not from fear, but from the ache in my knuckles, a dull, rhythmic throb that had been building for three years. My...
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