Bridging the Puddle

Slipping under the door flap to get outside, I dashed down the wet steps to find a miniature lake cutting straight across the flagstones. Turning back was off the table. Spotting a flat piece of broken slate by the iron boot scraper, I hauled the heavy stone over and shoved it hard into the center of the water. It skidded across the surface with a quick splash before grounding against the submerged grit. I launched from the curb, hitting the wet slate in a low three-point crouch and absorbing the slick slide without losing my footing. With the crossing anchored, the path to the gate is open.