The Silver Counter

I slipped out into the morning air and walked down to the spectator bench beside the neighborhood running track. Resting on the dark wood was a small chrome hand tally counter, its curved body catching the quiet daylight. Near the top, a polished metal thumb lever angled upward, and through a tiny rectangular window, four white zeros sat aligned against a black background. Stepping close, I placed both palms against the ridged lever and leaned down with steady weight. With a crisp, ringing click, the metal gave way, rolling the final tumbler until a sharp white number 13 snapped into place. I stepped back, admiring the neat precision of the new digit.