A Spin on the Ledge

A polished copper coin was sitting completely forgotten on the sun-warmed lip of a stone plaza fountain. I wandered over from the street, hopped up onto the flat masonry, and nudged the heavy disk upright against the toe of my boot. With a single effortless flick of two fingers, I set it spinning into a humming, golden blur right beside the water's drop. Not a single splash, not even a hint of a wobble toward the pool below—it whirled until friction gently laid it flat again, heads facing the sky. Lounging back against the curved stone, I think this basin makes a remarkably comfortable midday perch.