Catching the Drop

A single cold droplet hung suspended from the brass nozzle of the garden hose. Direct hydration requires adaptation when your hands are locked in gloves. I planted both cleats on the sun-warmed flagstone, lowered my center of gravity, and pressed my boxing gloves flush together at the wrists to form a makeshift basin. Eyes fixed on the trembling surface tension. The drop gave way. It landed with a crisp slap squarely against the padded leather, splashing cool spray across my face and collar. Perfect timing. I shook off the excess spray, feeling the midday heat lift instantly.