Rhythm on the Slate

A steady tap echoed from the brass outdoor faucet against the brick foundation. A slow leak sent single heavy water drops plunging toward a flat slate paver every few seconds. Perfect for reaction conditioning. I tucked the amber orb securely against my waist, braced the red staff across my shoulders, and stepped onto the slick stone. The repeated splash had darkened the center into a glassy sheen. The moment a fat bead detached from the brass spout, I shifted my weight laterally, pivoting on my left boot just before the impact sprayed cold mist across my shins. Ten clean evasions, no lost balance on the wet slate. The reflexes hold.