She practises weekend mornings.
She clasps her wrist behind her back better to resist the temptation
to guide the ball with a passing hand.
She dances the ball from knee to toe to head to torso.
Repeated, with variations, ad infinitum.
She loses control of the ball.
She keeps her composure.
She retrieves it.
No whoops of delight.
Just focus and concentration.
I hear the bounce as the ball meets the tarmac.
She makes no other sound.
I stop what I am doing and watch.
You may have seen this in which case you'll understand.