Cold November air chilled the warm sweat streaking his face. Mud caked against his dry skin. Blood trickled from a wound below his right bicep and collected inside his elbow. He looked up, slowly at the scoreboard and saw zeroes. It was over. The roar of three thousand small town high school football fans were muffled by the deafening stark reality that he would never do this again. He went through the motions of shaking hands with his celebrating opponents. Briskly, he walked off the field, and headed up the field house corridor. A football player, no longer.
*blogger's note - This is another 100 word writing competition entry. http://www.velvetverbosity.com/ did this one. The word theme is "corridor". As always, this short story is based on true events.
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