The Downhill Run

I tucked a plump, glossy acorn under my arm and marched down the sidewalk to the city park, eager to see how gravity behaved beyond the foyer. Beside the terrace steps, a carved stone drainage channel curved alongside the balustrade like a miniature raceway. Crouching at the summit, I set the acorn against the worn limestone groove and lined up my shot. With a sharp flick of my gloved thumb, I sent it hurtling downhill. The nut rattled furiously along the curves, scattering dust before launching off the lip and splashing cleanly into a patch of clover. A marvelous demonstration of momentum! I dusted my knees, thoroughly amused.