At the neighborhood court, Enzo Molas dribbles his basketball. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
He slides, nearly falls — then catches himself. "Almost!" he giggles.
Day after day, Enzo Molas shows up and shoots. Swish. Clang. Swish.
He counts every shot out loud. His sneakers squeak against the wet pavement.
The sky turns gray. Rain begins to pitter-patter. Enzo Molas pulls on his yellow raincoat and keeps shooting anyway.
Miss. Miss. Then — swish! The ball bounces away like it is dancing.
He chases the bouncing ball and nearly trips over it — but grabs it and lines up again.
Raindrops tickle his nose. Miss. Miss. Miss. He takes a deep breath and shoots once more — swish!
One. Two. Three — the rain drumming above him like a band.
By the time he finishes, he has made exactly one hundred free throws.
He wipes his face and smiles, knowing every drop of effort was bringing him closer to his dream.
He thought: every shot mattered. Every drop counted.