A quick stop, perfectly executed, and a shower of ice shavings takes flight, as spectacular as a comet streaking across the firmament. On Saturdays he went figure skating (his clever plan to meet girls), but during the week, it was hockey.
Someone takes a tumble, sliding into the boards—but it’s not too serious.
He sees her behind the glass, with a mane of deliciously auburn hair and a retroussé nose. There’s a hot-cocoa machine near the change rooms. He could get her one.
As he approaches the glass he realizes his mistake: thick shoulder pads, mouth guard, foul language…