Push Your Limits
His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
The first light of dawn slipped through the curtains, slowly brightening the room.
Mey was breathing quietly in bed. His heart was racing, but there was a determined light in his eyes.
> Mey (thinking): "Today… I'll find out where my limits are."
He slowly stood up.
In the corner of the room stood an old treadmill.
He ran his hand over the dusty metal surface — like a soldier touching his weapon before stepping onto the battlefield.
He turned it on.
Set the speed to 5.
And started running.
At first, steady breaths… then his heartbeat quickened.
Sweat rolled down his forehead, and soon he couldn't even hear his own breathing anymore.
> Mey (thinking): "Is that all…? No, not yet!"
He pushed it to 6.
His steps grew heavier, knees burning.
One more minute… just one more minute, he told himself.
7…
Now his breath burned, his lungs were on fire.
Yet his hand reached out again — and pressed 8.
The treadmill roared through the house.
Downstairs, his mother looked up from the breakfast table.
Her face a mix of worry and pride.
> Mother: "Mey's pushing himself again…"
Mey was gasping for air.
His legs trembled, but he didn't stop.
He didn't even count the seconds — he just listened to his heartbeat.
Finally, he lost balance and stopped.
He stepped off the treadmill, hands on his knees.
> Mey: "Damn it… only ten minutes… that's not enough!"
He punched the floor, unable to hold back his frustration.
Just then, his mother rushed upstairs.
> Mother: "Mey! Are you okay?"
She opened the door — saw him drenched in sweat.
But what shocked her most was the thin steam rising from his body.
Even in the morning chill, heat shimmered off his skin.
> Mother (astonished): "Mey… are you steaming?"
Mey (panting): "I… just warmed up, Mom."
---
After training, Mey showered and had breakfast.
His mother was still worried, but when she saw the resolve on his face, she stayed silent.
> Mother: "Don't push yourself too hard, okay?"
Mey: "I'll just get some air, Mom. Promise."
He put on his jacket, slipped on his headphones, and stepped outside.
The autumn wind was cool, the streets quiet.
He bought a cold drink from a small corner store.
As he walked slowly, sipping, his eyes scanned the area—
Until he saw the sign.
"Neighborhood Football Field – Training Area"
His heart skipped a beat.
Before he knew it, his steps had turned that way.
He walked past the fence — young players were training inside.
Passing drills, shots, shouts…
The sounds, the rhythm — they lit a fire inside him.
> Mey (thinking): "Ah… I've missed that sound."
The stands were empty.
He stood there alone, drink in hand, watching the field.
They were playing a match — fast-paced.
Mey's eyes immediately locked on the midfielder — the one controlling the passes.
> Mey (thinking): "The midfield… it's the heart of the game."
Then, in one play, the ball was stolen.
The midfielder had hesitated.
Mey instinctively raised his hand and muttered:
> Mey: "No… not there! The right wing was open! If it were me, I'd have passed there…"
His own voice startled him.
He hadn't realized people were glancing his way.
But one player — the goalkeeper — noticed him.
Their eyes met for a moment.
> Goalkeeper: "What are you saying, man?"
Mey (awkwardly): "Ah, nothing… just watching. You're playing well."
Goalkeeper: "If you want, come join us. It's more fun than watching."
Mey froze.
That invitation echoed in his mind.
Then he looked down.
> Mey: "Thanks… but I'll just watch for now."
The goalkeeper shrugged and turned back to the game.
Mey stayed behind the fence, eyes still following the ball.
> Mey (thinking): "That's where I belong… and one day… I'll be there again."
The wind brushed his face as he took another sip of his drink.
Then, sunlight broke through the clouds —
Lighting up the center of the field,
And in Mey's eyes, that old spark returned.
---
Return to the Field
Just as Mey was about to leave, a scream rang out.
The midfielder was on the ground, clutching his ankle.
Teammates rushed over.
> Player: "My ankle… I think it twisted…"
Mey took a step back, his chest tightening.
> Mey (thinking): "Ah… hope it's not serious. They don't have another midfielder… what will they do now?"
His eyes fell back on the field.
> Mey (thinking): "If only… I could play."
Then the goalkeeper — Lex — looked straight at him.
> Lex (shouting): "Hey you! Come here! We lost our midfielder — or we'll lose the match!"
The coach immediately cut in.
> Coach: "Lex! What are you saying?"
Lex (without turning): "We've got no choice, Coach! We need him!"
Mey froze.
A moment of silence…
Then a faint smile crossed his lips.
> Mey (thinking): "Is this… fate smiling at me for once?"
He rushed down the bleachers.
Each step echoed with memories —
That day… that injury… those screams…
> Mey (whispering): "Enough. No more running. It's time to face it."
When he reached the field, he had no boots.
Lex grabbed a spare pair from his bag.
> Lex: "Wear my backup pair, quick!"
Mey: "Thanks…"
As he tied them, the coach approached.
> Coach: "Midfield is the heart of football. I'm trusting you, kid."
Mey lifted his head, eyes on the sky.
Then that familiar, dark smile curved his lips.
> Mey: "This… this is where I belong.
I feel alive again."
The whistle blew.
A free kick restarted the game.
Lex sent the ball forward — Mey's first touch.
In an instant, his eyes scanned everything.
He calculated every position, every movement.
Then he saw it — an opening on the left wing.
Without hesitation, he sent the perfect pass.
The ball flew like it was drawn by a string —
And suddenly, everyone's eyes were on Mey.
He was no longer behind the fence — he was in the heart of the game.
---
Field of Vision
The moment Mey touched the ball, his heart began to race again.
Every pass, every touch — it felt like hearing an old melody he'd forgotten.
The opponents pressed hard, but Mey's gaze grew calm.
> Mey (thinking): "Alright then…
Show me how much I've really forgotten."
He passed to Lex.
Lex sent it right back.
And as Mey took the ball — something happened.
Time slowed down.
The entire field unfolded before his eyes.
Players' movements, passing lanes, empty spaces —
All of it lit up like lines on a glowing map.
And then — suddenly —
Among those lines, a single arrow appeared.
A bright green light, curving left.
> Mey (whispering): "Ah… there.
My vision… it's back."
His eyes came alive.
He clenched his teeth with determination.
> Mey (to himself): "I feel good… really good!"
He stepped forward — once, twice.
With his left foot, he nudged the ball,
And with all his strength, sent the pass flying.
The ball moved as if guided by an unseen hand,
Landing exactly where the green arrow pointed.
The left-wing player controlled it smoothly,
Dodged the defender,
And the crowd erupted in a roar.
> Lex (shouting): "PERFECT PASS, MEY!"
Mey was breathless,
But there was a new light in his eyes now.
He wasn't just seeing the game anymore —
He was feeling it.
> Mey (thinking): "This… is only the beginning."