The rain pelted the windows. Jarrett looked outside and commiserated himself and his bad luck, he did not have a jacket. He looked at his watch, damn he was late. He then turned his attention to his knuckles which were sore and red.

He was drowning in his own questions. Was there anything he could have done better? Could he have won? What if he spent more time in the gym? He cracked his knuckles which stung slightly, rubbing his raw skin against the palm of his left hand. He visualised himself trapped in the corner, Chinedu leaning on him and calmly saying “I’ve got you.’

A bead of sweat dropped down Jarrett’s forehead like the droplets of rain on the window in front of him. He wiped it with his hand touching his swollen face. He let out a sigh, why does he go through this kind of pain? In his mind he heard his coach’s voice “we’ll go over some of the mistakes you made at training tomorrow.”

What mistakes? He spent years developing an impeccable form and it was useless when push came to shove. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for this kind of busines and didn’t have what it takes. He felt as though his heart dropped inside as he remembered his dad teaching him how to punch when he was little.

The Light from outside began to die away as the train entered the tunnel. His reflection became more apparent in the window as he studied his likeness. Had his life till now been a waste? Did he reach for the stars only to grab a handful of clouds? His dreams like the clouds slowly evaporating from his fingertips.

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