General

The tennis racket had been strung and restrung, staying faithfully within our family for decades past and decades onwards.

General

The tennis racket became an extension of my soul-spun arm, together, it and I, the most old-school of cyborgs.

General

The tennis racket took up home in my palm, for all those hours spent learning the craft, it stuck with me no matter what.

General

The tennis racket had an unexpected weight to it, but then it had been made by a master, and there was quality in those extra grams.