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"At the top of the toss, the ball paused, weightless. Willy's arm dangled slack behind her back. The serve was into the sun, which at its apex the tennis ball perfectly eclipsed. A corona blazed on the ball's circumference, etching a ring on Willy's retina that would blind-spot the rest of the point."
- Double Fault, Lionel Shriver.
I know some people would say 'but its literary.' No excuse, that is bad, bad writing. Reminds me why I opt for a pared down style.