Consolation Price

Coach Ibrahim Aamil made his way to the dressing rooms. Training was over, everybody had gone home, and Absinth had not showed her face once, the whole evening. Yet, her motor cycle was still standing there, outside, so what the hell was keeping birthday girl? He sighed. As if he didn't know.

He raised his fist, reconsidered, and gently knocked on the door.

"Absinth..?"

No answer. He opened the door, and sure enough,there she was, sitting on a bench with her head down.
He wanted to start the 'Happy birthday to you...', but then she looked up and he saw the tears. This was kind of schocking. He had been training her from the age of twelve. Over the years he had seen her taking severe beatings, while training, and in the ring. And over fifteen years, he had never seen her shed one tear. The event on Saturday night had really come down hard on her, obviously. He sat down beside her.

RP Short Stories

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