A Stone by the Root

The afternoon was quiet enough to move. I took the stairs down one step at a time, then slipped through the propped entryway door into the open air. Out here, the ground is rougher. I followed the edge of the brick border until I reached an exposed tree root. Wedged beside it stood a heavy slab of grey slate, thick and upright. I placed both palms against its flat face and leaned my weight forward. It did not tilt or shift in the soil. Solid. I sat down into the gravel beside it, resting one arm against the stone while the distant street traffic hummed along.