Empty.
Dark except for the overhead lights.
I don’t warm up.
Don’t stretch.
Don’t think.
I shoot.
One.
Two.
Three.
Miss.
Grab the rebound.
Shoot again.
Harder.
Faster.
It doesn’t fix it.
Nothing fixes it.
After a while, that’s not enough.
I leave the ball.
Head outside.
Bleachers—I take them two at a time.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
My lungs start burning fast.
Legs heavy.
Breath ragged.
Good.
Punish it out.
Run it out.
