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text
Summary
When I woke from the dream, I was seventeen again.
On the ice, my wife left a dazzling sweep of color.
This time, I decided to stay outside the boards. Preferably in a drab gray work vest, a mop in my hand and my head down, quietly passing through her life as I wiped the floor.
She would think I was just a temp at the rink. Then she would go on warming up, jumping, spinning under the spotlights, winning the championships that should have been hers all along.
Instead of ending up, as she had in our last life because of me, with a steel pin in her right ankle that could never be removed.
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