"Look at this," the commentator said, softer now.
"Every player's off the pitch… but the fans are still standing."
"You don't sit down when the conductor's still holding the baton," the other replied. "Because you never know if one more note is coming."
As Izan disappeared into the tunnel, the camera caught the scoreboard again—its glow almost gentle in the winter dusk.
ARSENAL 3 – ASTON VILLA 0
...
The door to the main hall hissed slowly and silently but still noticeable through the silence in the room.
Izan exhaled as the door whirred to a close behind him.
The Emirates had been a roar, the tunnel a blur, the ride back a string of conversations he half-listened to.
Now?
Now it was just him.
He stepped out of his sneakers with lazy feet and pulled off his hoodie, the post-match chill still caught in the fabric.
His duffel dropped by the stairs.
