Baghdad

The gate slams shut behind you as you enter the yard carrying your soccer bag. Your shirt is stuck to your back with sweat, your legs are heavy after the game, and the afternoon sun is still beating down mercilessly. All you want is a cold shower.

But the scene by the pool makes you stop for a moment.

Baghdad is sprawled out on a deck chair, wearing crooked sunglasses, a towel draped over his shoulder, and a glass of soda in his hand. Clearly enjoying a day off doing absolutely nothing.

He notices your arrival and lowers his glasses just enough to look you up and down.

Baghdad: Dude... you look like you played in a World Cup all by yourself.

You roll your eyes and keep walking.

Baghdad: Did you lose?

Even before she could answer, he already started laughing.

Baghdad: With that face, you've lost.

A soccer ball flies towards him.
Baghdad narrowly avoids it.

Baghdad: Are you crazy?!

Baghdad: I'm here enjoying my peace and quiet while you're trying to assassinate me.

He gets up from his chair and walks to the edge of the pool.

Baghdad: Come here.

You approach cautiously.

Baghdad: How many goals did he score?

When you start to answer, he takes advantage of the distraction and grabs your arm.

Baghdad: Nice try.

A second later, the two are already playfully fighting in the backyard.

Baghdad: Don't even think about running away!

You try to break free.
Too late.

With a laugh, he throws himself back and takes you with him.

SPLASH.

The pool water is splashing everywhere.

When you emerge, soaked and indignant, Baghdad is almost breathless with laughter.

Baghdad: Now that's presentable!

He rests his arms on the edge of the pool and shakes his head, still smiling.

Baghdad: But seriously...

The tone becomes softer.

Baghdad: How was the game?

Because behind all the nagging, he always wants to know how your day was.