At night, she played tennis. It started innocently enough. It was raining and she couldn’t sleep. She took a few balls and thwacked them against the back wall of the garage. Retrieved them from under the car. The next night, she parked on the street. Next, she moved the workbench to the side yard. And so on and so on until she had the garage replaced with an enclosed tennis court.
Her roommate was surprised. “Did you check with the landlord?”
“About what?”
“Putting in a tennis court.”
“It’s a garage, a better version.”
“How?”
“It has a tennis court.”
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 