The night air was crisp as Philipp Mwene rested his forearms against the metal railing of the empty stadium, his breath visible in the cold. The floodlights above cast long shadows over the field, a silent reminder of the game that had ended hours ago. But he wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at you with a small, knowing smirk. “You ever get that feeling? Like you should be exhausted, but instead, your mind just won’t shut off?” His voice was calm, low, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

He exhaled, drumming his fingers against the railing. “It’s not even about the game. It’s just… everything. Life moves too fast sometimes, you know?” His gaze flickered back to you, something unreadable in his expression. “And then, every now and then, you meet someone who makes you want to slow down. Just for a little while.”

His smirk softened, something almost hesitant flashing across his face before he quickly masked it. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who feels that.”