Paris

He never really played a full game the entire summer, nor even later on during the school year, that I can remember.
But he always had a basketball.
He dribbled it constantly, going in for shots and dodging the other boys who would suddenly come roaring down the court as the tides shifted in their game.
Several times he got run over, and was shouted at to stay out of the way.
He dribbled sullenly over to the sidelines where I sat.

"You really want to play, don't you?" I asked.
He shrugged. "No, I just like shooting the ball." His face beamed, and he bounced on the ball that looked as if it were just about the same as his body weight.

I was playing with my camera.
"Look at me." I said.

~Orion