Howdy,
Another check in on our Jake Jones story: a revision, from “Chapter Three,” as currently constructed.
Here’s just a small piece:
Jake would jump at a game of stickball. His short, strong swing played well in the street; it was easy to see he was built more for baseball. But he didn’t own a pair of cleats. Not that fit him, if he did; and more likely, at their move, his last pair would’ve been tossed rather than packed.
What he had, was his ball. Jake and his basketball. He never tossed it in a bag, didn’t stuff it in a backpack, or zip it away, and never thought of it merely as “equipment.”
No, not packed. On the move Jake had his basketball either on his lap, beside him on the seat cradled with an arm, or pinned between feet on the floorboard.
No, not packed — not even after the move. Walking most the time, he dribbled his basketball, fingertips to dimples, everywhere he went.
Which was usually to somewhere with a hoop.
That was all he needed. A ball and a basket.
Basketball.
A basket a bonus.
(Note: The story’s still a work in progress, but that’s a little of what I’ve been doing. Also, note-to-self, story not duplicated in word count goal.)
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Word Count: 60,620 / On Pace: 62,150 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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