Asphalt Stance

Being cooped up inside had run its course, so I slipped out through the cracked front door and walked down the block to the asphalt court. Just as I stepped onto the blacktop, a stray basketball bounced hard off the chain-link fence, rolling directly toward my path with heavy momentum. I didn't scramble for cover. I squared my shoulders, planted my sneakers on the faded court line, and stood dead in its tracks. The thick rubber nudged right into my toe and stopped cold. I dropped one paw onto the worn pebbled grip, holding it down with ease before anyone even called for it.