Page 328 of Bad Prince

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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.

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