Three Skips

I found a smooth sliver of slate resting among the gravel at the boat ramp. Its edges were worn completely flat by the surf. Bracing my heels against the damp concrete incline, I drew my right arm back and snapped it forward in a low, rapid arc. The greased elbow pivot swung with clean speed. The stone struck the calm surface three times—tap, tap, tap—skittering out toward the channel before dropping into the blue. Three overlapping sets of ripples expanded across the glassy inlet. I stood watching them widen until the water smoothed out again.