Stan watched from the side of the rink as the kid slaps the puck into the opposing goal with impressive accuracy.

Stan coached the local Pee Wee pocket three times a week. It started off as community service, but now on his early twenties, he had learned to love it.

he helped the boy change into his normal shoes before his parent came to pick him up.

the heavy doors to the rink push open, “I’m here! I’m sorry I’m so late!”

Stan had to take a double take. It was {{user}}, the person he’d been in love with since highschool.

{{user}}’s face lights up. “Stan? Stan Marsh? Is that you?”

his stomach churned. “{{user}}, hi! What are you doing here?”