Care for a match?
Date: Sunday, 15th September Location: Tennis Court Availability: @agata-almeida
The brightness of the afternoon sun greeted Florian as he escaped the cool shadows that the school buildings cast over his path. Having spent the better part of his summer in dull weather, he found the warm heat of Montana a pleasant change, and so he breathed in the fresh air contentedly as if he were ensuring that he’d have some in storage for later use. There were quite a number of things he could have been doing, things that possessed greater urgency than the current goal he set out for himself. But those things would have to wait because today, he longed to feel his tennis racket against his palms and surrender himself to a couple hours of physical intensity. The tennis club wasn’t scheduled to meet until Thursday, and Florian was already itching to step out on the court. He felt that it wouldn’t hurt to get back to the grind a little earlier than everybody else. There was also the fact that he didn’t get to play as much as he had wanted to during the summertime. Therefore, as he rationalized, he was due some tennis.
It was the third day since the return to Astor, and while he was well aware that his chances of walking onto a busy court was slim to none, still he opposed his gut-feeling to text a friend over for a match or two. The iron gate creaked on its hinges as Florian entered the court, and he found himself standing in an empty stadium. Settling on the nearest bench, he laid his tennis bag down on the ground and considered his options. He could always work on his serves and his aces. It would wear him out faster, indeed, but this was not the time to be fastidious. He then proceeded to do warm up exercises. After ten minutes, and still by his lonesome, he broke into a run and covered several laps around the hard court to get his blood pumping and further stretch his muscles. His respirations were deep and rhythmic, and he began to feel the familiar release of tension spread throughout his body. He stopped when he caught movement from his peripheral vision.
A girl had just entered the court; a face he recognized but failed to pair with a name. That was not his main concern, however, for what immediately piqued his interest was her outfit. She was dressed to play. Without preamble, Florian walked towards her with his arms outstretched by his sides, declaring cheerfully. “The court’s all ours it seems. Would you care for a match?”
