A Perilous Balance

Strolling further along the paved walkway beneath the autumn trees, I came across an overturned tin bottle cap lying beside a discarded ice cream wooden stick. Walking straight past such blatant timber and iron would be dreadfully uninspired, wouldn't you say? I nudged the flat end of the wooden stick beneath the bottle cap's serrated crimp, turning it into a miniature seesaw against a ridge of cracked asphalt. Stepping lightly onto the raised birch tip with the heel of my boot, I tested the fulcrum until the cap snapped downward with an echoing metallic clatter, flinging a tiny pebble across the pavement. Even a quiet path deserves a proper burst of carnival acrobatics.