The crack of the pistol sets him free.
The blocks behind him a one time obstruction no longer holding sway. The pulsing of blood in his ears and the drum of his heart drowns out the crowd and footfalls behind him. He is a flash into the first turn. A gale force wind as he rounds the bend. A striding thoroughbred coming into the straightaway.
Born for this. Raised for it. Trained for it. This is his world. His life. Once threatened and now reclaimed. The others shouldn’t have even shown up. They might as well not exist. In this realm he is king, here to reclaim his throne, and no one will defeat him.
Then…the pops. The tears.