The Victory

Maleah Pond, Contributing Writer

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A few words slipping from the crowd to her ears.

They did it.

They won.

They survived.

They made it.

Newly found metal clinked against her neck,

cold spreading quickly from her chest to her limbs.

Her coach walked slowly,

The scent of fresh air following her.

You did great.

She grasped the hands nearest her.

Tight. Wanting.



All lights were just on them,

Just them.



Yet silky against her skin.

This was it.

Her tears were bitter on her lips.

Murmurs roared into cheers,

the medal cold against her heart.

Steady tears streaming quickly.

The pungent smell of sweat.

We won.

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