“Honestly, I think I knew when we were kids,” he says, surprising me. “You always had these big emotions as a young girl and—” He stops to gather his thoughts, to figure out how to describe them. He lets go of the reins, and I turn enough to see him place his palm to his chest. “I swore I could feel them.” His eyes are alight with the memory. His description makes me sad. For the girl he’s speaking of, a girl I don’t know, and for the boy who thought he lost his match.
