Wiesbaden, American zone
Wiesbaden, American zoneGlenn was squinting his eyes against the sun and launched the basketball. It flew in a perfect arc and dropped through the basket with ease.
“Wow. How can you do this?” John asked him, awe-struck.
Glenn caught the ball and passed it on to his best friend’s son. It was nice to be admired, even if only by a seven-year-old. “Plenty of practice. And it obviously helps to be tall. Now it’s your turn.”
They continued to run, pass, dribble and throw for another fifteen minutes, until Glenn’s best friend Charles Gardner came into the garden of his villa. “Dinner is ready.”
John put down the ball and raced into the villa faster than Glenn could blink, but Charles caught him by the shoulder and admonished him, “Wash your hands first, or your moth
