"Mr. Finch," the Professor asked. "What makes you, you?"
Alex thought about it.
"My memories, Sir," Alex said. "My experiences. The wins. The losses. The mud in Wrexham. The heat in Jeddah."
"The narrative," the Professor nodded. "We are the stories we tell ourselves."
Mark sat next to Alex. He was wearing a toga again (he had brought it to university). But this time, he had added a pair of cool sunglasses.
"I AM A MODERN PHILOSOPHER!" Mark whispered. "I THINK, THEREFORE I AM FAST!"
"Mark," the Professor sighed. "Please remove the sunglasses. You are indoors."
"My future is too bright!" Mark argued. "I need protection!"
The lecture ended.
Alex walked out into the Oxford courtyard.
Identity.
Tonight was a test of identity.
Champions League. Round of 16. Arsenal vs Atletico Madrid. The Emirates Stadium.
It was the clash of styles. The Beautiful Game vs The Dark Arts.
Simeone was still there. The man in black. The master of suffering.
Alex walked to the car park.
