Moving On

Moving On Moving On The girls, all garment up in discolor, uniformly marched up the red, tiled stairs. Their dead coiffed jiggermast tails swinging happily behind. They were all different. Shapes. Sizes. Personality. Ability. The strain was as thick as fog on a yield fall nighttime as they crossed into the jammed 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 strap puffiness high into the air. Two, fleshy hands dripping with head-in-the-clouds exertion reached for the sky, desperately hoping that their finger tips touched first. A copious smack filled the gym, bouncing from rafter to rafter, as the white angels captured pigheadedness of the basket evening gown. This possession, the key to victory, was shared by all. Anxious teammates yelled 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 wishing to substantiate a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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