“Skates?” I shoved all of mine in the hall closet after I got home from the hospital. I haven’t looked at them since, too afraid the ghosts from my professional athlete past might come out and haunt me if I stare at them for too long. “I’ve been working with their skate rep,” she starts, and I hear the tint of nerves in her voice. “I mentioned who the skates were for and how you need two different sizes now, and after talking with your prosthetist about your foot measurements, I ordered a pair. They’re, um, custom. The left is the size you used to wear, and the right is slightly smaller to fit
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