A Mark on the Wall

The concrete bowl was quiet under the morning light. Down along the curved wall, a bright yellow Bart Simpson sticker was slapped against the scratched steel barrier. A clean marker to aim for. I lined up along the high drop-in, nudging the deck into place with my sneaker. One steady push. Speed built fast through the curve. At the lip, I snapped the tail hard, launching well above the coping into a high, floating board grab. Gravity pulled me back into a solid, heavy landing. Gliding out of the transition, I extended my gloved knuckles and bumped the grinning sticker on the barrier. Crisp landing.