The Current

A thin trickle of water moved down the grooved stone trough beneath the corner pipe. I watched the narrow current twist. Flecks of grit spun in tiny circles before washing along the lip. With steady momentum, I levered my flippers into the damp gravel and surged forward. My lower jaw slid flat into the stone channel. The moving water met my teeth, splitting into twin ripples that curled around my snout. Cold. Steady. I rested my belly against the mossy stone edge and let the stream run.