Sudden Fiction

Okay, this "Sudden Fiction" thing seems to be all the rage over on Yahoo 360, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Bear in mind, I don't write much fiction (though I'd like to), so be kind if it sucks. :)

Dewayne rolled the PlayMate out of the shed and onto the new tennis court behind his house. His wife, Pam, had gone already to join her boyfriend for an early dinner. She wouldn't be home tonight.

He plugged it in, then adjusted the knobs on the big green machine before flipping a switch to turn it on. It made a faint hum and, after a few moments, began shooting bright yellow tennis balls out across the sun-drenched court.

He jogged around to the other side of the net. He was in great shape for 40, he thought. The PlayMate made a "Thoop!" sound as it spit tennis balls at him, and Whack! he hit the balls with a satisfying rubbery "pap!" sound against his racket. He hit them hard. Aggressively.

He'd been with Pamela all his adult life.

Thoop...Whack! Too low, hit the net.

In a few months, all of the kids would be gone to college and they'd sell the house and go their separate ways. She'd move in with Julio and he'd...do what?

Thoop...Whack! He gave a soft grunt as he executed a beautiful backhand shot which nobody saw. Thoop...Whack! His forehand was in good form today as well.

For the first time, he considered the second half of his life as a desolate expanse of desert he'd cross alone and then die on the other side.

Thoop...Whack! Ah, that one was just barely in. Thoop...Whack! He had to run and reach for that next one. His shoes squeaked on the new surface of the court.

He'd thought Pamela would be the most permantent thing in his life. They'd grow old together. For all the frustrations and disappointments of married life, he'd thought at least he'd never be alone. He'd loved her. He'd had faith that she'd love him...always.

One final Thoop...Whack! and the PlayMate had coughed out its last tennis ball. It now made a sickly hacking, choking sound as it huffed and spat in vain, searching for another yellow orb to hurl at Dewayne as he crossed the court to turn the machine off.

In tennis, love is nothing.