A Ball
- Anthony Cardellini
- Jan 25, 2016
- 1 min read
One day, on the sunny hillsides of some seaside village, a ball rolled down a slightly graded cobblestone street.
No one was sure who it belonged to. It didn't care. Somehow as it went down the side walk it didn't bump into anything.
It was a peculiar thing: green and yellow stripes, small, perfectly round.
Kids played around it: some chased each other in tag, others passed a hockey puck between makeshift wooden sticks.
The ball was available but the kids watched it pass. It must belong to someone else.
Eventually it reached the beach where it sauntered past people laying on the sand. It disappeared into the water and no one saw it again.
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