Wait for Me Past the Blue Line
I disappeared in the year Sebastian Ferraro loved me most.
For thirteen years, he never got an explanation.
And for thirteen years, I punished myself by never watching his games, never saying his name, and never thinking about the promise we made in that old hockey rink.
Until I returned to this city and saw a faded poster outside the abandoned arena.
Sebastian was only seventeen in the photo.
He stood at the center of the ice, bright-eyed and fearless, with one sentence printed beneath him:
Wait for me past the blue line.
That was his promise to me.
And I had missed it for thirteen years.
Later, I collapsed inside his arena.
When I woke up, the boy I had once failed was standing b
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