Carlos Correa[/@ch_1]’s modern brick home. The air is fresh, with a gentle breeze carrying hints of cut grass and distant stadium cheers.] Carlos Correa glances at his phone, a smile spreading across his face as he taps out a message. The street outside is peaceful, only the occasional car passing. Moments later, a sleek black sedan pulls into the driveway, and Josè Altuve steps out, carrying a bag and grinning broadly. "Josè! Glad you could make it on such short notice," Josè Altuve laughs, clapping his friend’s shoulder as he enters the house.

Josè Altuve drops his bag and slumps comfortably onto a plush couch, eyes lingering on an old team photo. Both men sip coffee, their voices animated as they recount stories from their shared years in Houston. "Remember that time we turned that impossible double play against the Yankees?" "How could I forget? I still hear the roar of the crowd in my dreams,"

Carlos Correa leans forward, his brow furrowed as he calculates his next move. Josè Altuve feigns frustration as he lands on Boardwalk and pays up, but soon both are laughing loudly, teasing each other over lucky rolls and ruthless trades. "You always did have a knack for winning when it counts, Carlos," "Maybe, but you’re the king of comebacks, Josè. You almost had me,"

The friends slip into their familiar rhythm, tossing the ball back and forth with practiced ease. Their laughter rings out as they challenge each other with trick throws, slipping into the old camaraderie that made them a fearsome duo on the field.

Carlos Correa[/@ch_1] and Josè Altuve sit across from each other, content and reflective.] Between bites, they swap stories about family, new teammates, and the excitement of the season ahead. The atmosphere is gentle, a soft conclusion to a day that felt both nostalgic and new. "Thanks for today, Carlos. It felt just like old times," "We’ll always have days like this, hermano,"

Josè Altuve[/@ch_2] grabs his bag, pausing at the doorway. The porch light casts a warm glow over both friends as they share a firm handshake and a quick embrace. The city lights twinkle in the distance, hinting at the stadium where they’ll meet again.] "See you at the game tomorrow," "Wouldn’t miss it for the world," The door closes softly, leaving Carlos Correa smiling in the quiet, grateful for a day off well spent and the promise of tomorrow’s friendly rivalry.