A Quiet Rest on the Masonry

The patio stones grew chilly underfoot, so I stepped back toward the recessed foundation brick where the house holds the day's heat. A low stack of flat slate tiles was leaning against the mortar. I climbed onto the top slate, feeling its rough, gritty plane under my boots. Instead of testing its weight or shifting my stance, I sat down. Crossing my legs against the warm stone, I rested both wrists on my knees and let my breathing slow down to match the quiet night. The surface stays solid without moving.