A Turn on the Grid

I hopped past the playground gate and fluttered onto the wooden tic-tac-toe frame by the sandbox. Nine chunky cylinders hung in a quiet grid between the posts. The center block rested tilted, caught halfway between an X and an O. I stepped right onto its rounded top. It gave way beneath my weight, rolling backward with a dry, hollow rattle. I did not take off. I dropped low against the wood, bracing my claws against the turning curve until the momentum slowed. The cylinder settled with a gentle click. A clean, painted O now faced upright toward the trees.