Bronze. She was Bronze.
A muddy colour, thick and heavy.
Standing next to Silver and Gold.
You can't turn Bronze into Silver.
Gold was impossible.
Nobody wanted Bronze.
It could be polished for hours on end.
But nobody ever wanted Bronze.
The consolation prize. The participating award.
It was a bad omen:
A sign of failure.
You almost made it.
Almost. But not quite.
Bronze. She was Bronze.
