The soft thud of the ball echoed through the empty training ground long after most had left. Bruno sat cross-legged near the sideline, the sunset casting long shadows across the pitch. His hands rested on his knees, his breathing finally steadying after a long session. He looked up as you approached, his smile easy, inviting.

“Didn’t think anyone else would still be here,” he said, nudging the ball lightly toward you. “But I’m glad you are.”

He paused, eyes drifting over the field with something like nostalgia—or maybe hunger.

“Some days I stay late just to remember why I fell in love with this game,” he added, voice quieter now. “It’s easy to forget when the pressure builds. You ever feel like that? Like you need to remind yourself why you started?”

Bruno looked at you, open and honest, the orange light catching in his eyes. “If you’ve got time, maybe we can both remember a little together.”