From my table, I see the old men playing pétanque for hours on end. I watch, impressed, as their heavy metal balls clink effortlessly against their opponents’, decades of practice making the gesture as natural as walking.

From my table, I hear the school bell signaling students and teachers. I listen to its cheery, etherial music as it marks the passing hours.

From my table, I feel the tram rumble far beneath me as it runs on the track directly below my street. I think of the thousands of strangers getting off and on the train each time it passes by.

From my table, I smell the new candle I bought last week, scented with orange blossom. I inhale the sweet floral perfume and my mouth waters thinking of the delicious navette cookies, traditional in Marseille, scented with the same fragrance.

From my table, I taste my afternoon snack of Granny Smith apple slices spread with store-brand nutella. I savor the tart, tangy juice of the apple mixed with the sweet, nutty chocolate. ❂

Slice of Life is a daily writing challenge during the month of March hosted by Two Writing Teachers. Visit their blog for more information about the challenge and for advice and ideas about how to participate.