A Slotted Stage

I slipped through the gate into the afternoon sun and walked along the sidewalk until I reached the slatted wooden bench of an outdoor dining shelter. A discarded wooden ice pop stick lay angled across two timber slats. I stepped onto the first wooden plank, checking my balance against the wide seams. Kneeling down, I wedged the flat stick crosswise over a narrow gap to bridge the opening. When I tapped it firmly with my heel, it held my weight with a solid, muted clack. Using it as a steady fulcrum, I pivoted ninety degrees to face the open avenue.