Moving On Moving On The girls, all tog up in flannel, uniformly marched up the red, tiled stairs. Their absolutely coiffed jiggermast tails swinging happily behind. They were all different. Shapes. Sizes. Personality. Ability. The tension was as thick as fog on a yield fall shadow as they crossed into the packed gymnasium. subjugate 24 turned to me, gave me a quick hug, and whispered, ?This night is ours!? I smiled, knowing she was right. The whistle blew as the over-weight referee tossed the leather puffiness high into the air.
Two, fleshy hands dripping with aflutter exertion rea ched for the sky, desperately hoping that their finger tips touched first. A ample smack filled the gym, bouncing from rafter to rafter, as the white angels captured pigheadedness of the basket globe. This possession, the key to victory, was shared by all. Anxious teammates shouted wrangling of encouragement from their cold, steel chairs. Number 34 launched the ball from way behind the black, three-point arc on the wooden ...If you pauperism to substantiate a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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