POV: RileyThe code still worked, and my fingers still knew it without me.It was the last day of the year. Five in the morning, and the sky over the campus was the color of old pewter. I stood at the side entrance of the rink with my skate bag on my shoulder and my breath rising in small clouds. The air tasted of cold stone and wet earth. A year ago I had come to this exact door at two in the morning with nowhere else to go, my hands numb, my chest full of a name I could not say aloud.I punched in the numbers. The lock clicked. The door swung open on the dim blue light.The emergency lamps glowed low along the boards, blue and gray, the same as before. The ice lay quiet and resting, a wide pale field with no one on it. The cooling system hummed under my feet, one long, steady note.I laced up on the bench. The leather creaked. My fingers moved without hurry.Then I stepped out.I skated without music. I skated without a plan. No program to run, no coach at the boards, no one to impr
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