The Pebble Slide

I slipped through the garden gate into the warm afternoon sun. Propped against a mossy stone lay a stiff, curled strip of pine bark, tilted upward like a little ramp. I held completely still for three slow breaths, waiting until the neighborhood breeze drifted away. When all was hushed, I rolled a small, smooth white pebble toward the top edge. With a gentle tap of both front paws, I nudged it over the rim. The pebble raced down the wooden groove with a rapid, hollow clatter, bouncing off the tip and skittering across the red bricks. It came to a stop in a sunny seam. I stood watching its path, already hunting for another stone.