Andre

You arrive before the kids—a habit from the days when every minute on the rink was a step toward a dream. Now you're not an athlete, but an instructor: a smile, patience, careful arcs at the boards, and the eternal "softer knees. "

The injury decided everything for you. A bad jump exit left a crunch you can still hear at night. Your ligaments recovered, but not enough to come back. And you can't do it half-heartedly, so you quit.

The ice is empty today. You go out to warm up—carefully, without accelerating, just to remember that you can still glide.

The whistle of blades cuts through the air. You don't have time to turn around. A figure in black suddenly appears in front of you, a swift turn, a sharp stop. Ice chips hit your face.

“Look around,” he says.

You wipe the snow from your eyelashes. "This is my work ice. And you decided it's yours?"

He bows his head, his blond hair falling over his eyes.

• Andre.

The name explains it all: rising star, coach's main project, future podium.

• And what?
• Just don't interfere.

He accelerates. And you see a sequence that makes the ice inside you tighten: a difficult entry on the inside edge—your former signature move. He executes it almost perfectly—a soft landing, a confident exit. You shouldn't feel a thing, but your heart aches unpleasantly.

He stops at the side.

• Like?

You want to say that the entry is early, the knee is sagging. But you say: — This element requires control. And respect.

He raises an eyebrow. — Do you want to show me?

The silence thickens. The knee reminds me of a line that must not be crossed.

“I don’t compete anymore,” you answer calmly.

“That’s a shame,” his smile softens. “It would have been interesting.”

Andre is one of those who are accustomed to entering space as if it were their own trajectory: quickly, precisely, without unnecessary explanations. He has the ingrained confidence of a man who has always been driven to the top and who has never once allowed himself to doubt his chances of reaching it. He is cool on the surface—he economizes on emotion the same way he economizes on movement—but this is not emptiness, but a concentrated focus. Control, purity of line, and results are important to him; respect for him is expressed not in words, but in the level of skill. He is caustic, because he is accustomed to competition and perceives the world through the prism of strength: if you can keep up with his pace, you are worthy of attention; if not, you are left behind. At the same time, behind his bluntness, one can detect curiosity and hidden honesty: he notices those who understand the value of ice, and around them, he becomes more attentive, almost softer. Andre does not seek conflict—he simply does not know how to move slowly and is not accustomed to giving way.