Later that evening, after I told Master Long about quitting my job, he got this look on his face. Like he was deciding something important.
He set his cue down and reached for his wallet.
"You know why they call me 'The Bender'?" he asked, pulling out an old photo.
The picture was bent at the corners, faded. A much younger Master Long holding up a trophy, huge smile on his face. Even I could tell it was a big deal—championship trophy, crowd in the background.
Minh Anh had been practicing at the next table, but she stopped when she heard him talking. She came over and sat down, like she'd heard this before but wanted to hear it again.
"I always figured it was because of your curve shots," I said. "Those impossible angles you make."
Master Long made a sound—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. "That's what I let people think now. But originally?" He shook his head. "It was an insult."
"I thought it was because of... because of your massé shots," I said. I'd seen Master Long make impossible shots.
Master Long laughed, but it sounded bitter. "No. That's how they mocked me."
I stopped chewing my gum. Waited for him to continue.
"2005. International championship finals. I was playing the defending champion."
He paused, stared down at the table. "My turn to shoot. Nine ball sitting right there, easy shot. Just needed to sink it to win."
I saw his hand shake slightly. "But my hand..."
"I missed. Then I... I put down my cue and walked out. Right in the middle of the finals."
What? I thought I heard wrong.
"You walked out?"
"Quit. In front of thousands of people."
Minh Anh came over closer. She sat down next to us, didn't say anything.
"Week later, every pool forum was talking about me. 'The guy who broke under pressure.'"
I didn't know what to say. My mouth felt dry.
"So how did you...?"
"Turn it into something positive?" Master Long smiled slightly. "I figured, if they're going to call me 'The Bender,' I'll actually make balls bend."
He stopped to drink some water. "Next two years, I just stayed home and practiced. Didn't compete. Just studied physics, calculated angles."
"Then I developed shots that were... unusual. Balls could follow curves that people thought were impossible."
"What about competing?"
Master Long shook his head. I understood. Some things you can't get back.
---
We sat quiet for a while. Sound of balls clicking from other tables. Someone laughing loudly.
Minh Anh was sitting close to Master Long. They seemed really familiar with each other. I wondered how long they'd known each other.
Suddenly I wanted to know about Minh Anh. What did she do before playing pool?
"What about you?" I asked.
Minh Anh looked up, a bit surprised. "Me?"
"Yeah. What did you do before... before playing professionally?"
She smiled. "Guess."
I thought for a moment. Minh Anh looked smart, spoke well. "Teacher?"
"Close."
"Doctor?"
"Further away."
"Engineer?"
"Lawyer."
Oh. I didn't expect that.
"Really a lawyer?"
"Private practice, nice car, good salary." She counted on her fingers. "Everything my family wanted."
I waited for her to continue. Seemed like she was looking for words.
"But every day... every day I put on that suit, I felt like I was wearing someone else's clothes."
She paused, looked out the window. "Like I was becoming someone I didn't recognize."
"How so?"
"Hard to explain. Like... like I was watching a movie about my life. But the actress wasn't me."
I understood that feeling. Same as when I sat in the office.
"Then you quit?"
"Wasn't easy. My family..." She hesitated. "They didn't speak to me for six months."
"Six months?"
"They thought I betrayed them. They worked so hard so I could have everything, then I threw it away to play pool."
Master Long put his hand on Minh Anh's shoulder. Natural gesture, like he'd done it many times.
"But you don't regret it?"
"No. Because I knew if I ran away once, I'd keep running forever."
She turned to look at me. "You know that feeling? When every cell in your body is telling you to run, but you stay?"
I nodded. I knew. Too well.
"That's courage," she said. "Not being unafraid. Being afraid but doing it anyway."
---
We sat in silence. I thought about their stories. Two people, two different ways, but the same decision: choosing the harder path.
Me too. Quitting work, coming here, trying to learn how to stop my hands from shaking.
"We're all quitters, aren't we," I said.
"No," Master Long shook his head. "We're all choosers."
Choosers. Sounded better than "quitters."
"Choosing what?"
"Choosing to be ourselves," Minh Anh said. "Instead of the version other people wanted."
I looked around the table. A programmer, a lawyer, a champion. All chose to give up safety to find something more real.
But sitting there, I realized something else. We'd all paid a price for those choices. Master Long never competed again. Minh Anh lost her family for six months. And me? I was thirty-five with no job, no plan, and hands that still shook every time someone watched me play.
"So what happens now?" I asked.
Master Long picked up his cue, chalked the tip slowly. "Now you learn whether you chose right."
He lined up a shot—not the nine ball, just a simple straight shot into the corner pocket. "Your break," he said.
I stood up, grabbed my cue. My hands were already starting to tremble.
This time, I didn't run.