The fated day begins.
It was a hot morning. The blinding light of the sun completely going through Gwyneth's window woke her up combined with her alarm clock at 7 AM in the morning.
She reached over to the small bell on the top of her dresser while still laying down in bed and shot it to the small ring attached to her dorm room's door.
The sounds of spring and the awkward noise of the net was heard loudly as it was just a cheaply made basketball board.
Her shot went in the hoop.
She stared at the ceiling and closed her eyes for another ten minutes to gather her thoughts. Her head was completely in the game.
The nervousness she felt was the fuel to her passion. Her weakened stay was warming up for a perpetual engine. And her consciousness was clear, free of thoughts. She was in the zone.
She hopped down from the top bunker to the ground. She woke up Phoebe sleeping on the bottom bunker of the bed.