Timing the Drip

I popped my mint tin open, slid my sunglasses into place, and slipped out through the screen door onto the warm flagstones. Right beside the flowerbed, a heavy green garden hose lay coiled like a banked sprint track. At the end, a solid brass nozzle leaned over a flat slate stone, releasing a fat, rhythmic water droplet every four beats. I trotted up the ribbed rubber curve, balanced on the brass coupling, and dialed in the cadence. The second the droplet broke surface tension, I kicked off into a low, fast slide across the slate. The cold burst hit the stone an inch behind my heels, kicking up a crisp spray. Perfect timing, zero direct hits.