Following the Line

I slipped past the garden gate and walked down to the quiet neighborhood park. The open asphalt court was completely clear. Bold yellow lines were painted directly onto the ground, cutting clean, straight borders across the tarmac. I stepped onto the nearest stripe, aligning both boots along the bright pigment. Keeping my weight centered, I walked the length of the line heel to toe, feeling the rough grit beneath my soles. The track led straight out into the middle of the empty space. When the line finally met the center circle, I stopped and stood still, letting my shoulders drop as the open air settled around me.