And I write stuff like a week in advance and do at least one round of editing. And that's all after extensively thinking over current story events before I get around to the actual typing.
I didn't mean for that to be a big revelation at all, that's just where the part stopped for the day.
It was still a thing in the story that I didn't see coming. Actually your story is proving to be quite unpredictable in certain ways, it's very enjoyable.
I'm glad my story isn't as predictable as it's author.
Of course, I succeeded eventually. I don’t go to bed till I’ve had success. That was a horrible way to go about things, the only thing it one hundred percent guaranteed is that I was always low on sleep.
It was practically easy. I was getting so used to transcribing moves over now that I was able to get it down before three. Give me a break, I didn’t start till eleven-thirty. The bigger problem now was remembering all my moves. And typing them. You gotta realize, here’s what a normal battle looks like for me.
TheGreatCon: pivot pivot attack fire jump pivot run pivot slam pivot reload pivot run slam slam slam pivot backrun stop
And that’s just a simple smash. My keys were losing the letters, and I was quite frankly running out of ways to improve. There are physical limits to how fast you can type. I think I had reached and possibly surpassed them.
A long time ago I had discovered you could rename moves. I had promptly redone a few, but mainly left that tool on the back burner. Now was the time to amend that.
I went under my basic moves, clicked to edit my “pivot” and changed it to “1.” Next, the run was “2.” “3” became backrun. I did a quick scroll through half a million commands and then back up, decided this project best wait till tomorrow, or maybe sometime next week, and went to take an orangish shower.
I rolled the ball over my foot, did a little spin and smashed the ball towards the goal. It rocketed off the top bar, and did a quick head-butt to amend my aim. As the ball bounced back towards me, I flicked it up and balanced it on my chest. I rolled it over to my back, and then let it roll down my spine before catching it in the crick of my knee. I swung it back around, and dropping it down I started to bounce it. Once on the concrete. Once on my foot. Once on the concrete. Once on my foot. I continued this pattern, until a twinge shot up my leg, and the ball slipped away.
A pair of immaculate white tennis shoes trapped it solidly beneath their tread.
I glanced up at Celeste. “How are your shoes still white?”
“They’re a new pair.”
I nodded. Mine were new too. I was wearing a pair we found junking out a closet earlier.
She shot the ball back towards me. “What was it you were saying earlier?”
“Huh?”
“You said I had a hitch or something.” She motioned to the ball.
I eyed her suspiciously, but duly raised back my leg and demonstrated. “You pause. Right here.”
I kicked her the ball back. She leaned in and kicked it hard. I frowned. “Still there.”
“I don’t feel it.” She protested.
“Concentrate on the fluidity.” I said, fetching the ball for her. “You’ll get it.”
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
Cause I'm so ready. 
