Granite Boulder

Pushed past the cracked steel door and marched into the open midday air. Sun struck my face. Ahead lay a sea of grey river gravel lining the wall. One stone stood apart from the rest—a jagged fist of rough, speckled granite embedded deep in the dirt. Grr. A challenger. Dropped low into the gravel, boots churning small stones aside, and locked both thick hands around the stone's jagged edges. Squeezed tight. The rough grit bit into my palms as I threw my shoulders back and wrenched upward. Earth snapped loose around its roots. The heavy rock tore free from the ground with a dry crunch. Heavy. Solid. Held it aloft for one breath before slamming it down flat. Ground secured.