Valve Pressure

Midday heat started baking the court blacktop, so I jogged straight over to the heavy cast-iron drinking fountain by the sideline fence. The wide chrome push-bar stuck out like an industrial lever. No point waiting around for someone to turn a valve. I planted both sneakers squarely onto the textured metal bar, gripped the cold rim of the stainless steel basin with both hands, and drove my full weight down. The heavy spring groaned and gave way with a solid hydraulic clunk. A crisp, arched jet of icy water shot straight out of the brass nozzle, misting over the rim and washing the blacktop dust clean off my arms. Pure recharge.