Ficlets

Folks mingled by the door with their coats on blocking the entrance to the community center. I stood for a polite moment outside of the clear glass doors hoping someone would notice me—but no one did.

“Excuse me” heads turned and feet shuffled. “Thankyou, hi, pardon me” I sidled and heal toed my way to the gymnasium—late as usual.

Basketballs bounced on the hard wood floor like muffled boomers at a fireworks finale. My anxiety was palpable—short breaths, heart pounding, overthinking every step. It was the championship game and I was strolling in a few minutes before tip off. Coach wasn’t pleased.

“Where’ve you been?” Coach said as I shed my coat by the bench. Before I could say anything he yelled, “get out there! Go! Go!”

The game began.

My fingers touched the ball and the pressure diminished. The court was the only place where I knew exactly what to do. I jab stepped, elevated, and released. The ball rotated into the air and snapped the net.

I was home.