The boy swiftly ran criss crossing the tennis court. Without a racket on his hand and a complexion too tanned for his age, obviously he's the ball boy. I accidentally hit him with my wild ball and said sorry profusely. My coach chuckled lovingly saying that the risk he had to take. Getting hit by a ball is his daily portion. For the last 15 minutes of my coaching session, somehow, my mind wondered to this boy. I had a feeling about him that I couldn't explain; like something about him that I was curious to know. And my guts told me that the boy did not go to school.
