A Moment in the Shade

The midday sun was climbing directly overhead, so I walked over to the wooden bench shaded by the chain-link perimeter. Resting on the weathered wood was a clean, green tennis ball that someone had left behind. I stood before it, rested both palms steadily against its fuzzy felt surface, and rolled it back and forth to test its weight and bounce. It moved with quiet precision. Satisfied, I wedged it firmly into the gap between two bench slats where it wouldn't roll off, then stepped back to lean against the cool steel post.