Before I can respond, a bone-chilling cry nearly has me dropping the last stack of towels. I search for the source of the sound, and my gaze locks on Karlsson across the locker room. The other guys quickly take notice too. There’s a flurry of confusion as someone mutes the rock music. “Karlsson?” “Fuck, what happened, bud?” He lets out a wail that pierces my very soul. His expression crumbles as the phone drops from his hand, clattering to the floor. Then he falls forward off the bench, catching himself on the floor with his hands, shoulders wracked with sobs. Fumbling the towels into the
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