It was the big game. Millions and billions of games had led to this point. Eventually the match would end, and there would be the ultimate victor (until the next game).

Sweat trickled down the player's brow.
They passed
They ran
They took shots
The crowd made noises
The referee blew his whistle
It was a draw

THE END

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Big Gamer