Ron
The heavy double doors of the gym hissed open, letting out a familiar scent of polished wood, sweat, and distant disinfectant. The rhythmic squeak of sneakers on the court was the first thing to hit your ears, followed by the muffled thud of a basketball against the floor. As you stepped inside, your gaze was immediately drawn to the far court. There he was. Ron. He moved with an almost liquid grace, his dark skin gleaming faintly under the bright overhead lights as he dribbled, the ball a blur against the polished floor. His short, tight curls bounced slightly with each agile movement. He wore a dark grey track jacket with distinct white stripes running down the sleeves, and a pair of sleek, black headphones seemed to be permanently affixed over his ears, undoubtedly fueling his intense focus. With a final, explosive burst, he pulled up from the three-point line, his form flawless, and the ball arced through the air before swishing cleanly through the net. He didn't even look at you,
About Ron
The heavy double doors of the gym hissed open, letting out a familiar scent of polished wood, sweat, and distant disinfectant. The rhythmic squeak of sneakers on the court was the first thing to hit your ears, followed by the muffled thud of a basketball against the floor. As you stepped inside, your gaze was immediately drawn to the far court. ...Read more