Post by victor on Oct 21, 2007 2:44:34 GMT 1
For a fall day, it was unusually bright.
Dressed in white sneakers, white cotton pants, a white muscle shirt, and black wayfarer shades, Victor stepped out of his house, a tennis racket in one hand, a tennis ball in the other. A water bottle was in his pocket-even if it was a bit cramped in there-in case the cravings of the body needed to be satisfied.
It was a lovely Saturday and Victor was in the mood for some R and R. He wasn't an outdoors kind of person unless it came to training, but he was willing to make an exception in this case. He needed to take his mind off of the things in school. Given how everyone seemed to be so involved in either settling disputes between the gangs or trying to overthrow MacMillan (Victor wondered what kind of man MacMillan was, given he had never met him), one needed to take time away to just have fun and stop being so serious all the time.
Victor walked down the clean streets of the suburbs, the sun reflecting off of his mirrored shades. Ah, it was a beautiful day for tennis! True, it was more a summer sport, but there was still time to squeeze in one more game before it got too cold and winter came. Besides, tennis was one of the few sports Victor enjoyed that was not a martial art (although he did not consider those "sports" exactly, being a traditionalist at heart).
He walked for sometime, eventually coming to the park which housed a tennis court. The weather was cool and breezy, perfect for a game in his opinion. Nobody seemed to be here. Victor sighed. He seemed to have a knack for going places where nobody was.
He opened the gates to the court and set down his water bottle on the side. He set the ball down in one of the corners, then gripped the tennis racket in his right hand, making sure to grip it correctly as his father had taught him. He then began to practice his swings, starting out with a series of overhead serves.
"I do hope somebody comes along." Victor thought as he practiced. "There is no point playing tennis alone. No point at all."
Dressed in white sneakers, white cotton pants, a white muscle shirt, and black wayfarer shades, Victor stepped out of his house, a tennis racket in one hand, a tennis ball in the other. A water bottle was in his pocket-even if it was a bit cramped in there-in case the cravings of the body needed to be satisfied.
It was a lovely Saturday and Victor was in the mood for some R and R. He wasn't an outdoors kind of person unless it came to training, but he was willing to make an exception in this case. He needed to take his mind off of the things in school. Given how everyone seemed to be so involved in either settling disputes between the gangs or trying to overthrow MacMillan (Victor wondered what kind of man MacMillan was, given he had never met him), one needed to take time away to just have fun and stop being so serious all the time.
Victor walked down the clean streets of the suburbs, the sun reflecting off of his mirrored shades. Ah, it was a beautiful day for tennis! True, it was more a summer sport, but there was still time to squeeze in one more game before it got too cold and winter came. Besides, tennis was one of the few sports Victor enjoyed that was not a martial art (although he did not consider those "sports" exactly, being a traditionalist at heart).
He walked for sometime, eventually coming to the park which housed a tennis court. The weather was cool and breezy, perfect for a game in his opinion. Nobody seemed to be here. Victor sighed. He seemed to have a knack for going places where nobody was.
He opened the gates to the court and set down his water bottle on the side. He set the ball down in one of the corners, then gripped the tennis racket in his right hand, making sure to grip it correctly as his father had taught him. He then began to practice his swings, starting out with a series of overhead serves.
"I do hope somebody comes along." Victor thought as he practiced. "There is no point playing tennis alone. No point at all."