"Again!"
Sam's voice reverberated inside the training ground, followed by the sound of groaning and mumblings from the Manchester United under-sixteen players.
Jerry collapsed on the floor, his chest rising and falling heavily. Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He was only granted a half-second reprieve before Sam's voice rang out again. He closed his eyes and forced himself up, gritting his teeth. He didn't want to open them—he wasn't sure whether he'd be able to stop the tears from forming.
'I miss Tom,' Jerry thought bitterly as he picked himself back up and walked to his position.
A rondo wasn't something that usually exhausted him. In fact, up until Sam happened, Jerry actually liked rondos. They were simple, usually filled with good vibes, and an opportunity to sharpen his touch. But after what Sam did, he would never look at it the same way again.