The old man sits on the edge of a rotted bench, feet bent head down he’s remembering the moments of youth he spent on these courts. Those moments he remembers clearly and wishes he could play one last time. A cold wind blows and rattles the old, worn nets. It’s the first time he’s been back for years since he ran off in vaguely adult pursuits; those that ended in his now monotonous, sedentary lifestyle. ‘Where are they now?’, he wonders. The team he laughed with, fought with, and grew with ended up their separate ways, after the group disbanded. Life hit and the resulting explosion threw each character to new corners of the world, far from the courts they called home. He alone came here in the hope that one more familiar face would brighten the cloudy day. One more face reminiscent of laughter. But none came and the old man sat. Alone he sat. Looking for familiarity in a land he no longer belongs.