The Bank Shot

A runaway black peppercorn went skittering across the cool marble counter, set loose by a sudden kitchen draft and hurtling toward the steep edge. Panic is never on the program for a performer on her mark. Moving briskly along the stone veining, I dropped low into an angled, balanced crouch. Bracing the slender shaft of my wand like a miniature billiard cue, I met the rolling sphere with a sharp, calculated strike. It ricocheted cleanly off the heavy oak knife block at a sharp ninety-degree angle, banked neatly along the rim of a ceramic butter dish, and settled precisely into the counter's perimeter groove. A spotless, improvised trick shot.