Tammie held our old, battered, but still serviceable badminton birdie in one hand and her racquet in the other. There was a look of concentration on her face. Taking a swing, the taunt strings of the racquet made contact with the little orange rubber belly of the birdie. The contact produced a very satisfying, resonant, ‘Thunk!’
While Arnie and I waited, we talked and looked out of the restaurant window. Hot and sweaty people were walking across the sweltering black parking lot toward the entrance. Our waitress soon came and took the order and brought us coffee.