Las Positas lay fallow on a Friday afternoon.

An abomination to the tennis gods.

Courts awaiting player and bouncing ball.

Air longing to be sucked into winded lung.

Soaring raptor looking down upon no one.

A parking lot naked without cars,

embarrassed as people drove by and gawked.

The atmosphere void of laughter and curse.

Denying courts access to their players is a cruel fate.

The nets frowned with sagging sadness.

Stillness robbed the courts’ raison de vivre.

No one was there to care.

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