The Rolling Foothold

I marched down the driveway straight toward the neighborhood curb. Right in the sunlit gutter sat a bright yellow tennis ball, resting against the concrete lip. An undeniable stepping stone! I stepped forward without breaking stride. My right boot planted firmly on the fuzzy crown. Roll! The sphere spun instantly under my weight. I did not retreat. I leaned my frame forward, locked my knees, and marched right in place as the rubber globe revolved beneath my soles. Three brisk, balanced paces! With a decisive forward hop, I landed squarely on the solid curb edge. The ball coasted into the grass. Footing fully proven!