A Loosened Grip

The glowing rim above cast long, warm shadows across the court. My fingers were locked in a still shaka sign until a sudden spark pulsed through my knuckles. I flexed my thumb, rotated my wrist, and felt my weight shift freely on the ground. Glancing back, I reached out and tapped the painted wall near the hoop, feeling the cool rough texture beneath my palm. I nodded to the dark sky, ready to move.