A Clean Boundary

Too many hours indoors reviewing table perimeters called for fresh reconnaissance. I hitched a ride inside the canvas shoulder bag during the morning stroll and disembarked onto a broad wooden park bench overlooking the dirt track. Four dried jacaranda seed pods were scattered unevenly near the armrest, disrupting the seating line. With my football secured against my ribs, I nudged the tough, rounded husks one by one with deliberate footwork, aligning them along the outer wooden slat like a tidy set of boundary markers. Runners passed by in steady cadence below. My sector was clear, numbered, and perfectly stationed.