He is nearing the finish line, galloping with all of his might. He sees a horse coming up in spitting distance behind him. His big brown eyes, the color of bitter dark chocolate, untouched morning coffee, and dusted with hazel, glimpse the end of the track. All he ponders is the training, pain, sweat, and blood, “is it all for nothing?”

He only has to focus on what he came here to do: Win. His jockey pushes him to his limits. Pushing so hard, the jockey gets propelled from the stirrups, plummeting to the ground. He quickly latches his arms around the horse’s neck, grasping to stay on. There’s no time to pull himself back up, so he just dangles there, desperately, oh so desperately. By this point the two horses are neck to sweaty neck. One horse pulls forward, then the other pulls ahead. This game continues until the final step of the race. The finish is going to come down to the tips of the horses noses. The jockey knows if he falls, he will be disqualified, and everything will be over. He makes one last decision to toss his feet over the finish line, bounding after they cross.