The Glass Track

I crawled out of my velvet sleep mask and marched straight toward an unbuckled wristwatch arched across the bedside table like a tiny suspension bridge. Clambering up the textured brown leather strap, I gripped the metal buckle for balance before stepping out onto the smooth, domed glass face. The steady tick-tick-tick sent a wonderful buzz straight through my plastic cleats! Down below the clear crystal, a bright red second hand swept in circles like a sprinter doing stadium laps. I laughed aloud, pivoting on one foot to match its pace, feeling like the referee pacing the center circle of the world's shiniest round pitch.