Writing 101, Day Two: A Room with a View (Or Just a View)

Prompt from here.
A tribute to tonight’s World Cup semifinal (hey, it’ll be 3AM Jakarta time when it plays).

Tomorrow we’re going to have the presidential election and everyone else is waiting for that, but really I’m more on the edge on the Brazil vs Germany match.

Placing one foot after another through the steps upstairs, he huffed each time his knee stings. The mug in his hands quivered unstoppably, almost making the iced coffee spill due to his arm shaking like the legs of a newborn deer.

‘Damn my leg!’ John Watson in BBC Sherlock once said.

That was exactly what he wanted to scream out. But then again his wife was upstairs with enough problems on her own and being a bored retiree didn’t mean he has the right to add to it.

She smiled at the sight of him. The dim lights illuminated her face, adding sparks to her eyes. He shot a smile back as he stepped on the second floor and joined her sitting on the couch, an old jersey of his laid across the leather arm as a reminder of the good old times.

‘Just in time,’ she said excitedly as she pulled the mug out of his hand to take a sip and brought her attention back to the television across the room.

The old man took a deep breath and leaned back. The fan hanging on the ceiling was creaking as it tries its hardest to keep working and the paint has turned a bit yellowish. The flowers on the wallpapers had faded a bit, leaving cloudy patterns behind instead of the peony petals it used to bear. The air was humid even though the window was open – the only square hole in the wall that allowed them to see the rare starry night every once in a while.

Then he heard them:
The voice of the commentator.
The voice of the crowd cheering.

He snapped his eyes back on the screen and saw the green field.
The scorching sunshine.
The running players.
The grand stadium.

In that instant, he could almost feel the wind blowing against his face.
The sound of forty-thousand supporters cheering in his ears.
The texture of the grass under his shoes.

In that instant, the pain on his knees were no more.
In that instant, he was back on the field.
And in that instant, he was back where he belonged.

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