She’s been playing since she was a kid.

Tournaments. Travel. Years where stopping never really occurred to her. Not because she was chasing something but because she loved the sport, and loving it meant staying with it.

When the match ends now, nothing dramatic happens. Her body doesn’t collapse or celebrate. It simply asks to be left alone long enough to settle. Her feet hurt badly  enough that walking can be uncomfortable for a couple of hours. But the pain doesn’t feel alarming. It feels earned. Invigorating, even. Proof that she stayed present.