A Clean Strike

A fallen green plastic bottle cap was resting inverted near the fringe of the woven rug. I studied the angle. The opening between the table leg and a folded paper coaster measured roughly three paces across—an ideal target zone. Stepping back two strides, I planted my left foot firmly into the dense weave. I swung my right leg cleanly, driving the square edge of my boot directly against the rim of the cap. It slid true across the flat fiber, spinning twice before coming to a complete stop squarely between the markers.