A Clean Rebound

I hitched a ride out in the tote along the cross-town tram, stepping down onto the green laminate surface of an outdoor table tennis court at the park plaza. An abandoned matte-orange ping-pong ball sat resting by the centerline. I planted my sneakers against the painted white boundary, braced both hands against the lightweight shell, and gave it a solid, driving shove. It sprang forward with a crisp, hollow pop, bouncing in rapid rhythmic taps before skimming neatly beneath the perforated steel net. Watching the orange blur roll smoothly to the far edge brought an effortless half-smile.