Skimming the Surface

A flat oval flake of gray slate rested right on the lower granite step, practically begging for flight. I didn't hesitate. Dropping low against the damp river stone, I gripped the thin edge between my fingers and gauged the calm canal surface. With a sharp, low-whip snap of my wrist, I launched the stone sidearm across the glossy water. It struck the glassy surface with a crisp tap, leaped up, and skipped three more times in a straight, disciplined line before vanishing into the far reeds. Four clean strikes across the channel. Not bad for an impromptu drill.