there was some kind of pickup soccer game to get to so we got walking. the neighbourhood looked a lot like my own. we saw Sandri waiving from the third floor and called him down. he had been tanning and his hair looked perfectly set - even from that impossible height. we were all in some kind of a rush. it was only when we actually got to the immaculate little field that we realized just how many friends of ours had shown up to watch. they were all seated around the clear plexiglass dome in tables of four. they had the uninterested look of friends and family at a rock show, as if their presence alone was more than enough. the game was delayed. still, I did my best to pick out faces from the crowd. was that Diana sitting with Amy's high school friends? odd. the gang of Latinos we were going up against informed us there had been some slight modification to the format. it would be three aside. with less players on the pitch, i quietly considered the extra crowd scrutiny. then i suddenly realized i was wearing my favourite striped tuque and i pictured the referee forcing me to remove it at centre field, in front of everyone. my stomach sank. so i jogged off the field and into some kind of complex that instantly reminded me of those wedding sausage factories that can handle five or six celebrations at the same time. behind some random podium there were two jokers belting commercial jingles like they were national anthems. i finally found a washroom, looked around, tossed my hat and began shaking my hair. it slowly puffed back into place. i remember feeling unsatisfied. the light was dim.
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