On Broken Ground
The shooter eyed his mark.
Shut out the chaos.
Prostrate on broken concrete, he meticulously assessed the target.
His index finger and thumb twitched with anticipation.
Onlookers stood motionless.
He shot but missed. Pained exclamation between his teeth.
Others knew the stakes became perilously high.
Another youngster, hands deep in his pockets caressing his loved possession, lined up to take his turn. Tangible concentration.
On his haunches, he flicked his prized Blue-Eyed marble knocking several out of the circle.
On the playground, jubilantly, he rattled Onion Skin, End of Day, Opaque and Mica marbles lovingly in his hands.