She started showing up earlier than anyone else. Even before the guard opened the gates. By 9:53, the sun was already hitting the concrete so hard the ocean beyond the fence turned into a field of blinding white reflections. It was almost impossible to look at. She always brought four tennis balls with her. She never used one of them. Just held it in her hand between serves. A habit she could never quite explain. That season, everyone around her seemed to be rushing somewhere. New projects, new money, new people, new cities. For the first time, she looked at it all without the feeling that she was late. Most mornings were the same: a white skirt, cool air coming off the ocean, an empty court, and silence before the first hit. After a couple of months, her friends started saying, “let’s meet at your Palm Point.” Even though on the map, the place was called something else entirely. It just became the place where she stopped pretending everything was under control. Egor Shirinsky May 2026