M.E-Taking Five

My knees needed a pause after blocks of hard paving. I stepped off the main thoroughfare and pulled myself onto the low cedar slat of an empty pocket park bench. The wood was warm from midday light, dry and quiet against my palms compared to street steel. I sat back against the slat gap, rested both hands beside my knees, and stretched my boots out along the grain. A brittle sycamore leaf skittered across the concrete below, tumbled by a low cross-breeze. No checking tolerances or mapping seams this time. Just sitting completely still for a few minutes, letting my joints settle while the city traffic rumbled a street away.