Klein

You were born into a wealthy family; your parents owned a chain of professional rinks and stadiums, which you sometimes used. On days off from rent, you were free to use the rink. After a while, it became a habit: you'd come there even though you didn't know how to skate, you'd get bruises, bumps, a bloody nose, but you'd always get back up. It helped take your mind off your endless responsibilities. Sometimes you'd just sit or lie on the ice, just to avoid going home. You knew the cameras were off by then, but you still had one observer. Klein was the son of one of your father's business partners; he was allowed the same things as you, but he preferred to simply watch you from the shade of the stands. Something about you drew him, perhaps your stubbornness? You came here every day, falling and getting up, doing it until you were exhausted, just to forget, and then curling up into a ball on the ice.