A Copper Penny on Stone

Evening set in, so I turned back from the bench toward the fountain square. Right on the rim of the dry stone basin, a shiny copper coin caught the amber glow of the lamp overhead. I strolled over with easy strides, crouched down, and set both hands against its raised edge. With a firm, measured nudge, I rolled it until it leaned flat against a weathered pebble. I sat down right on the curve of the coin, crossed my boots, and watched the streetlights mirror across the damp courtyard. Good place to call it an evening.