The tiger doesn't have a best friend. Never has. Always hunts alone. The wins and the losses are celebrated with the same routine: a slow, careful assessment of what went right and what can be improved for the future, because even with the leanest, most unhealthful diet the tiger lives on to see another day.
The opponents slice away at the reputation of the tiger with each and every day that the stomach continues to growl. Far more than the stomach growls - the soul hungers for something more: to belong. The stripes have never been accepted.
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