The morning after the match against Molde, Zachary woke up late, feeling fatigued. He opened his eyes and noticed that the golden rays of the morning sun were already streaming into his room through the drawn curtains. They lit upon his well-polished light-green bedroom wall, reflected off the surfaces of the pricy inlaid furniture, and occasionally left bright shimmering patterns on the coffered ceiling.
Zachary stared at it all, his mind replaying some of the scenes from the match against Molde the previous day, including the moment when he'd scored the winning goal. Even though hours had passed since the end of the game, his mind remained locked in those moments. He couldn't help but think his life was beautiful. Very few things could make him feel as contented as he did that very morning—after winning an important match.
