It was May 11th, sunny, and the highest temperature of the afternoon was 31 degrees Celsius. The final round of the English Premier League would all start at three-thirty in the afternoon.
Tony Twain got out of bed at seven in the morning. His wife got up even earlier than him, and she was already busy making breakfast in the kitchen.
He was not anxious to wash up and change; instead, he sat on the bed and drifted for a while. Was this day just like any other? No, this was a special day. Not because the champion would be decided on this day, but because of the complexity regarding how the title would be decided.
He remained dazed on the bed, as if he were still not fully awake yet.
After he stayed silent for a period of time, he rubbed his face and got off the bed.
A new day had begun. How would he feel when this day ended?
