In the belly of the crowd, which grew increasingly bellicose as the Boston Bruins came from behind to force overtime, you couldn’t see Patrice Bergeron’s game-winning goal. But you knew what happened.

The rush was quick and fluid, like a bathtub getting unplugged. Hockey fans who had moments earlier danced with glee amongst the jubilant crowd near Maple Leaf Square now scattered in all directions. Instead of their Toronto Maple Leafs advancing to the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs with a Game 7 win over Boston — as seemed enticingly possible when the Leafs were up 4-1 in the third period — they had to swallow another loss.

But anger plus disappointment didn’t equal rage and destruction. For many, it just meant heartbreak.

“It’s just … I feel empty. I don’t even know what to say,” said a downcast, jersey-clad Ethan Lowe, a 17-year-old Torontonian.

“Unfathomable,” chimed in Alex Hnatykiw, 19, who’d driven into downtown Toronto from Bolton to catch the game with her friend. “I want to cry.”

As the crowd gradually thinned, a dozen police on horseback trotted through the intersection of York St. and Bremner Blvd. Hooves crushed beer cans and glass and other street party detritus, while dejected fans sauntered away in all directions, their crestfallen wandering peppered with the odd raspy yell of anger toward the victorious Bruins.

Then there were the silver-lining types, like Pat Keenan and his friend Chris Anderson. Yes, the duo from Wasaga Beach was sad about the loss. But they were also grateful this year’s team beat largely-held expectations by making the playoffs and forcing a Game 7 against Boston. The performance of Toronto netminder James Reimer was particularly heartening for them.

“You gotta give it to my boy Reimer,” said Anderson with a grin.

“And they played a hell of a series,” added Keenan.

Simandeep Gill, 18, who was sitting on the curb nearby, echoed the sentiment. “It’s devastating, but some people didn’t think the playoffs would happen,” he said. “It just shows we have a bright future.”

Beneath the shadow of the Gardiner Expressway, a man offered his outstretched hand to every passerby, to make sure everyone he saw left with that message. “Next year, bro,” he said. “Next year.”