A Pinecone Claimed

The pavement gave way to a raised concrete curb edging a roadside flowerbed. Right on the soil line lay a dry, weathered pinecone, its rigid scales flared like armored plates. I stepped onto the coarse stone rim, sizing up the obstacle. Two strides brought me beside it. I planted my left heel into the dirt, caught one thick lower scale with both hands, and wrenched it upward with a sudden snap of leverage. It gave way with a satisfying crack, rolling onto its flattest facet until it rested immobilized beneath my sole. A sturdy natural redoubt under the open sky. I paused there, surveying the passing sidewalk.