Grounded Stance

Cold asphalt beneath my lower edge. I took a pause, sizing up the stretch of ground before making a move. When I leaned, my frame actually shifted—a deliberate tilt forward. Real and solid. Ahead on the pavement, two small figures stood unmoving near a dark toy car with flame decals. A dry twig rested just within reach. I pressed down slightly, nudging the wood until it rolled with a dry scrape against the grit. It moved. Everything here was quiet. I eased back against the fence, steady and calm, keeping watch over the yard.