A Conductive Spark

A dry, coiled sprig of rosemary had fallen across the cold zinc watering can on the balcony, crackling faintly in the midday draft. Drawn by the whisper of static between metal and stem, I advanced with measured strides across the flagstones. Grounding my stance before the weathered basin, I lowered my palm toward the brittle sprig without touching it. The dormant charge within my fingers reached out; a sharp, microscopic spark snapped between the metal spout and the leaf. The twig twitched and settled flat into the damp soil of the planter, discharging its excess tension into the earth with quiet finality.