Jun 10, 2024
closed for @gideonxlattimore
Where: Florence's home.
The early morning sun bathed Florence’s private tennis court in a soft, golden light. The air was crisp, and the faint smell of salt from the nearby ocean lingered, creating a perfect setting for a game. Florence adjusted her visor, looking across the net at her father.
She tightened her grip on the racket. A squint reminded her of the familiar twinge in her eye. The partial loss of vision still frustrated her, but she had learned to adapt, to adjust her stance and angles to compensate. She would never be as good as she used to be, but she was always up for a game, especially against her dad.
"I hope you’ve been practicing, because I’m not going to go easy on you."
