Therapist’s POV
Martha crouched at the net as I prepared to serve. I bounced the ball at my left toe once then again and then tossed it high in the air, swinging my racket through a wide arch tightening my grip on the racket and connecting with a satisfying thwack. The serve was good, not an ace but enough to push our opposition into a defensive formation, the return just out of reach of Martha's attempted volley but easy for me to return to the offside of the court deep and wide; Martha pounced on the backhand return with a crisp, clean volley to win the point and throw her arms in the air to celebrate not just winning the game and the match but the league championship.
I ran to her, hot and sweaty and hugged her tightly; she clung to me; then to remain sporting we reluctantly detached
