Curb Drill

I pushed past the driveway curb and worked my way down to the corner of the sidewalk. Halfway along the concrete joint, an empty soda can was resting on its side against the curb edge. The bright red paint was scuffed, but the metal cylinder looked structurally intact. I lined up parallel to it, measured my distance, and gave the flat bottom of the can a firm side-kick with the heel of my sneaker. It spun neatly across the pavement seam and clicked to a clean stop right against the curb riser, leaving me enough clear space to run two quick shuttle sprints across the square.