Taking small steady steps, Kota trudged up the path to his house. His muddy cleats slung over his shoulder, while his jersey appeared to be in a tattered state— a testament to the hard-fought battle he had just recently.
The neighborhood was eerily quiet, and the afternoon sun was casting long shadows on the ground. Right now, he was on his way home after a tiresome match.
Despite a hard-fought match, his team had lost and he couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness gripping his heart. For the most part of his journey back home, his eyes full of distress remained fixated on the ground beneath.
And, it almost appeared as if he was moving barely on instinct.
As he neared his house, he ran into many familiar faces. Seeing his dispirited state, they concernedly asked him if he was alright. Yet, he couldn't even bring himself to respond to their worries. And, so he walked past them without uttering a word, completely ignoring his presence.
