The infernal tennis ball rolled. The dog noticed, I did not, and the leash was looped so unfortunately around my calf as I squatted to pick up what she’d just squatted to leave. First flung across the sidewalk were my glasses. Then my phone, spinning like a bottle. It astounded me, the full lift and roll of my body, like a middle aged gymnast threatening to pull a muscle, one leg in stark relief for merely a millisecond against the sky. Finished, I unpretzeled my legs, gathered my things, made no eye contact with the man in the park who’d witnessed my flip from afar. Who knows, maybe he was holding up a scorecard: 9.28, Points deducted for cursing.
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