Maybe I would feel this again. The cold, icy wind drifting across my blushed face. The boom of the music roaring in my stomach. The scraping sounds of my blades sweeping across the ice. Maybe. What a compelling word. I still feel the tension of the judges eyes on me. Always critiquing. Always criticizing. But I enjoyed gliding across the ice feeling like I could fly. I could fly. Maybe. Maybe if I had more time to realize. Maybe if I was more open. Maybe if I stopped comparing. All these thoughts coming to me at once, my blade stabs into the ice and I fly. I feel the wind circle around me and my dress swirls and spins. Maybe if I had made the landing. Maybe if I had better balance. Maybe if I landed. But I didn’t. I fell. The peering eyes, the gasps of the audience. Failure. My legs are aching, but I have to get up, I need to continue. Getting back up, people cheer. The pressure is immense, but I will continue, I thought. I thought, maybe, maybe if I could stick the other landings, I might have a chance. As the music comes to a close, I am out of breath, in my ending pose, bowing to the judges. Maybe I could feel this again.