A Ring of Cold Granite

The dry air around the gaming console felt stale, so I marched out past the back door into the shaded gravel path. Under the low canopy of the hedge, I found a heavy, chipped granite coaster resting on the edge of the low birdbath terrace. Desiring the chill of the rough rock, I leaned forward, but my foot clipped an upturned root. My hips swung in an ungainly stagger. Rather than tumble into the wet mulch, I threw my weight down into an immovable, wide stance and locked my cupped hands out flat. The thick granite disc tipped off the ledge and landed squarely across my waiting palms with a solid clink, anchoring me securely to the ground while I let out a low, victorious trill.