August 2014 Flashes
Lisa Beebe lives in Los Angeles, where she sometimes talks to the ocean. Her work has appeared in Indiana Review, Pacific Review, Switchback, and Psychopomp. Find her online at lisabeebe.com.
The Tennis Ball
A woman was walking home when she found a tennis ball on the sidewalk. She was having a bad day, so she picked it up and tossed it at a building. It bounced back.
Channeling her anger, she pelted the ball at a tree. It returned at a funny angle, and hit her in the eye. She squinched her eye shut and threw the ball again.
This time, her aim was off, and she hit a man who was walking his dog. He grabbed the ball and threw it back, hard. The ball hit her in the breast, and it hurt.
She picked up the ball, and kept walking.
She saw an empty handball court, and went in. She hurled the ball against the wall as hard as she could. As it bounced back, she jumped in its path, and it hit her in the shoulder, leaving a welt. She threw the ball again and again, jumping in front of it over and over, until she was bruised and tired and done.
Before she left, she set the tennis ball down in the corner, in case anyone else wanted to play.