The End Zone

by L.J. Shen

But, to my horror, he doesn’t do any of those things. She’s the one running away toward the door, and he’s the one chasing after her. “Amber, no, please!” he calls. Amber. No. Please. Sage never begs. Sage never pleads. Not to me and not to anyone. He chases after her. I stay rooted to the floor. I watch the door swinging back and forth with the force of Amber’s push. He’s trailing behind. He catches her. He’s holding her. He’s hugging her. Their images are blurry through the dirty, cloudy windows. I see their shapes dancing together through the dull glass and the mist of tears on my eyeballs. The way Amber pushes him away. The way he keeps on moving toward her. The sheer desperation in his body language. And that’s when I feel Mark’s hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what it’s about,” he says, his voice quivering slightly, “but give him the benefit of the doubt.”