A Clean Turn

I slipped out through the screen door and strolled down the sidewalk toward Rockville Town Center for some fresh air. Near the edge of the plaza's low stone bench, an empty wooden thread spool had rolled into the seam between two red paving bricks. I crouched down and placed both palms firmly against its round, flared rim. Giving it a gentle, steady push, I guided it along the straight recessed line of the mortar. It rolled forward with a smooth, hollow hum, tracking the seam perfectly until it came to a quiet stop against a fallen leaf. Straightening up, I brushed the dust from my hands and smiled at how neat the path looked.