Courtside Seat

I pressed my thumb against the ridged edge of a bright silver bottle cap, slowly working it free from the packed dirt beside the gravel court. A couple of neighbors further down were having an unhurried game of bocce, their heavy metal boules rolling with a deep, muffled crunch that resonated nicely through the ground. I settled myself against the low wooden boundary beam, letting my back sink into the weathered cedar. With careful fingers, I balanced the shiny cap face-up on a smooth river stone right beside my knee, turning it into a neat little silver dish. Leaning back, I took a quiet breath, completely satisfied to keep score in my own silent way.