Across the Water

Spending too long indoors dulls the senses. I slipped down the fire escape and walked past the quiet residential blocks until I reached the edge of the neighborhood park pond. Near the mossy granite bank, I spotted a slate fragment—flat as a coin, edges ground smooth by the water. I crouched low, gripped the cold stone between thumb and forefinger, and squared my stance. Drawing my arm back in a tight, level arc, I whipped the pebble forward. It kissed the water once, twice, three times, sending clean ripples across the mirrored surface before settling on the silt. The air felt clear.