The Living Hour Hand

I wasn't about to spend the whole afternoon cooped up inside after that egg timer drill, so I trotted down the street to the quiet courtyard garden near the ramparts. Right in the center of the lawn sat an antique stone sundial, its slanted brass pointer slicing cleanly through the bright afternoon light. Naturally, I scaled the carved pedestal to investigate. The metal blade was casting a crisp dark shadow toward the Roman number three. Challenge accepted! I planted my blue shoes firmly onto the warm sandstone, threw one arm up at a sharp tilt, and let my own shadow stretch straight across the dial. Look at that—official timekeeper on duty!