Parents gone. Friends busy. Nothing but the ball and the hoop and his desire to be a star. He starts at the top of the driveway and dribbles down to the road, stops at the double yellow line, his three point line—
The creek behind the hoop is his announcer. “And he shoots! Spot on! Perfect! Swish!”
The wind and the crows, there are lots of crows, are his cheering fans.
He knows. He is a star.