De Zwarte Doos

A gentle hush had settled over Utrecht by the time Amani finally slipped back into his room, his body humming with the remnants of adrenaline. Outside, the brick façades glowed softly in the moonlight, the canals reflecting silver ribbons under a crystalline sky.

Even at this late hour, an undercurrent of life threaded through the city: a distant bike bell, the faint hum of a passing tram, the murmur of a couple chatting under a streetlamp. It all felt subdued yet comforting, a lullaby of urban sound.

Yesterday had been a chaos of cheers and enthusiasm, which was over to today. Just hours ago, he'd stood on the damp grass of a stadium pitch, flashes of cameras igniting the air. The crowd's roar still trembled in his chest, and the applause had made a home there even though it was Amsterdam.