Johnny joined his team on the basketball court. His father who would have normally left and returned to pick him up, sat in the car and read a book. The afternoon sunshine fought with a few dark clouds hovering above the players. A gentle wind played mischievously with the team as its intermittent trumpet sounded its horn. Two huge trees at each end of the court offered their shade near the baskets.
The game was in full swing as sneakers screeched and stomped to the rhyrthm of the game. Some were halting, while others flowed as if in strict compliance to a rehersed choreography. Shouts of "great shot," by a few spectators provided the boom and seem to intersperse just at the right time to complete the orchestra.
Johnny was very much there showing his dexterity and the reason he was considered one of the better players in his team.
Beads of sweat decorated the faces of the players as the energy from them superseaded the cool winds that blew her horn now with gusto. The clouds called on their companions and formed a cathedral encasing for the band. The sun bowed her head and quietly surrendered.
Charles Vanvilt was oblivious to all of performances as he had now fallen asleep. His had rested comfortably against the seat he was in. His torso moved from its upright position and was at a forty degree angle . His book had departed and was now ensconced in the passenger seat of its companion.
A light drizzle sprinkled on the players. The game was stopped suddenly and the players departed. Johnny awoke his father and they left.
To be continued.