American Football: Domination

When Sue came out, the first thing she saw was a strange scene—Lance skillfully moving through the restaurant, his steps light and nimble as he danced between tables, fully immersed in the daily rhythm of the place.

Sue: Uh…

Her brain hadn't caught up yet when Lance walked straight toward her, a small stack of order slips in hand. "Table 11 needs two Cokes, Tables 17 and 21 need tea refills. I'll drop these off in the kitchen now."

He gave a small gesture with the slips and walked past her without pause.

Sue was momentarily stunned. The familiar memory swept over her. The scene felt so natural—something she should've been used to—but in that moment, it felt oddly surreal.

These days, Lance's face was everywhere—live broadcasts, billboards. And more and more fans came to the restaurant to "witness" his former life. The red No. 23 jersey filled every corner of their view. Slowly, they began to realize: the boy they had once protected and watched stumble through his early years was now growing into a superstar.

They were proud, no question. Overwhelmingly proud. They supported Lance with all their heart.

But at the same time, watching that once-clumsy child, nurtured under their wings, now soar on his own through vast skies—it stirred something bittersweet deep inside.

Just like this past year.

Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year's. Lance had either been training or competing—no time to be with them. He had invited them to Kansas City to watch games, but their daily lives had changed drastically.

Unconsciously, quietly, the distance between them had grown. Even Sue, without realizing it, felt a subtle strangeness watching that No. 23 tear up defenses on Thursday Night Football.

Until now.

Suddenly, everything reset—

Lance was still Lance. Still the kid who helped out at home. Still the mature, self-driven boy no one had to worry about. Still the one who practiced MMA and hid his injuries to keep them from worrying. Still the one who endured it all silently and independently.

To outsiders, Lance had changed—he was now the renegade shocking the NFL, the trailblazer rewriting rookie records. But at home, he was still just a kid.

That flood of thought lasted only a moment, but Sue's nose turned slightly red.

Even she, for a second, couldn't tell if this was a memory, a dream, reality, or just a figment of her imagination.

BUUURP!

A loud belch exploded through the restaurant like a thunderclap. So sudden and unexpected that all the ambient chatter stopped. The air froze.

Except Lance.

He turned and looked toward the sound. "That's the highest compliment we can receive."

What had clearly been a startled belch, Lance spun into a clever joke—crediting the food instead of the surprise—dissolving the awkwardness in an instant. Laughter broke out all around.

The burping customer sat there, stunned, watching Lance stride over. He didn't even have time to feel embarrassed about his burp—his entire attention was on Lance, scanning him head to toe.

"You… you're… Lance."

It was hesitant and stammered, but undeniably a statement.

Lance neither confirmed nor denied it. He just asked, "So the service was good?"

The man nodded blankly, not blinking, not trusting his own eyes.

Then Lance looked at him and whispered, "Shh."

And with that, he turned and went back to work. But that one action was enough. The customer immediately pinched his own thigh—hard.

"Ah!"

He yelped, bit his lip, but couldn't control the euphoria. Even sitting still, he felt pure bliss flood his brain, unable to hide the glee stretching across his face.

"Ah… ahhhh…"

He whispered in delight, glancing around like he was guarding the world's greatest secret. Chin held high, basking in his "discovery," convinced he was the only one to see through the illusion—completely unaware that the whole restaurant had already caught on. The air inside was now filled with joy and amusement.

That brief interruption brought Sue back to the present.

That familiar feeling returned to her blood. A smile tugged at her lips. She moved swiftly, bringing food to tables with her usual efficiency and ease.

Without even noticing, her steps were faster, lighter.

Before, Sue and Josh could handle the floor by themselves. But now, business was booming. When Josh saw Lance, it was like seeing a savior. The dinner rush exploded into full swing.

Among the flood of diners, more than a few recognized Lance. If someone called out his name, Lance didn't shy away—he responded naturally, welcoming them like a host. The energy in the restaurant reached a lively high.

While Lance and the others worked nonstop in the restaurant—

Social media erupted.

"RB1 of the year waiting tables in a restaurant?"

"Post-AFC Championship leisure activity: waiting tables."

"Can someone confirm—is that really Lance?"

"I was eating, looked up, and Kansas City's RB Lance was handing me food. I sprayed water on him—what do I do? Please help. Urgent."

"What's it like to have the NFL Rookie of the Year serve you dinner?"

One post after another lit up the internet. Reposts. Comments. Likes. Everyone joined the frenzy in their own way. In no time, the traffic exploded, once again proving the insanity of the digital age.

No one saw this coming—not even Donald Yu, who was caught completely off guard:

Who could've guessed Lance just coming home for a visit would land him on the trending list?

The AFC Championship buzz hadn't even cooled yet. Now Lance, in a completely new way, had sparked massive attention from young fans. No one else could generate this kind of unstoppable momentum—he'd once again burst into the spotlight.

And so, the age of viral fame arrived in style. In early 2018—

Crowds surged into New York's Chinatown. Some were football fans. Most just came for the hype—many didn't know a thing about football. But no one wanted to miss this spectacle. One wave after another flooded in.

The media hadn't even shown up yet.

As for Lance?

He was completely innocent: I swear I didn't do anything. How did it end up like this?

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Powerstones?

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