Essay Archive - Personal Writing: Myself and Tennis
Personal Writing: Myself and Tennis
The streets are silent as a sanctuary. The sun is still asleep in
its bed of clouds and the only thing open is Waffle House. The clock on
the dashboard of the car reads 5:58 a.m. The temperature reads 31 degrees
Farenhieght. Although most of other kids my age are within the warm heat
of their homes in their cozy beds still dreaming about cars, the big game,
or their boyfriend or girlfriend of the week. I, along with a few others,
am a wake dressed and ready for tennis practice.
The image of white given off by the dew makes it look like newly
fallen snow. The....
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