Jim sat on large rock in front of the pond, with his back facing you. He wasn't recognisable at first, because he was wearing a regular white t shirt with track pants. His hair was disheveled, too, unlike his usual professional attire.
He was listening to music, judging by the earphones plugged in his ears.
Zoom in – he was inspecting the stones near his feet, and when he found a good pebble, he'd pick it up and skip it on the pond.
Seven skips. Eight skips. He smiled, pleased with himself, as he was lost in his own world – picking the perfect pebbles.