Chasing the Sundial Shadow

I bolted toward a flat stone garden wall where a round brass sundial was basking in the afternoon sun! The gleaming metal pointer cast such a sharp, dark shadow across the engraved roman numerals that I just had to see if I could align my own icy finger to match the angle perfectly. I crouched low, holding my breath to steady my fidgety joints, and leaned forward to touch the dial's rim. Big mistake! My slick plastic heel lost traction on the smooth mortar seam. Whoosh—I skidded sideways in a frantic flail, knocking an empty metal plant label clattering across the slate! I froze flat on my belly, blushing pink with mortification, hoping no strolling tourists heard the noisy racket. But leaning across the warm brass plate felt delightfully toasty against my chest!