A Clean Catch

A dry gust rattled the metal awning above, dislodging a small cardboard pastry box from the recycling bin. It came tumbling end-over-end straight toward the stone floor. I didn't back off. Dropping into a low forward stance, I tracked the spinning angle, thrust both palms up, and caught the flat corner right as it hit chest height. The impact pushed my boots back half an inch across the grit, but the cardboard buckled without flipping over. Inside, a dusting of sweet powdered sugar drifted out, settling lightly across my knuckles. Solid reaction, zero damage.