I wake up at five-thirty on Thursday morning and I can't sleep, which is different from every other time I've been unable to sleep this semester. Those times had dread underneath them, the low-frequency hum of something unresolved pressing up through everything else. This time there's just... Quiet. Clean quiet, without anything underneath.I get up, pull on gear without fully deciding to and walk to the rink.The ice at five-forty in the morning is a specific thing. The lights on half-power, the refrigeration hum, the cold that hits your face at the entrance and reminds you immediately that this is a real place and you are a real person in it. I lace up alone on the bench, no rush, nobody waiting, just the sound of the empty building around me.I step onto the ice.I don't run drills. I don't have a plan. I just skate, slow and aimless, the same way Kai and I skated that first night when we had nothing to prove to anyone, and I let the rink be what it is, which is the place I've been
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