It feels like he presents the shattered pieces of his heart to Artūrs when the team truly lets the thought of a trade sink in. Victor holds him a little longer after the game, buries his face against his shoulder, and tries not to let Arty see them be any less than excited for him to get a better chance at the big leagues. He doesn't know why he's so upset, not really. Maybe it's the way he's grown close to everyone in the small time he's been here or the way Arty is like an angel in his crease, nothing less than perfection on ice. If he lets out a small sob against his sweater, he doubts Artūrs will tell anyone about it.

aínda vemos...

José Saramago (16 de novembro de 1922) Camarada e grande persoa, no seu centenário (1922-2022)