Squaring the Brim

I walked back inside from the dark patio, crossing the slate tiles into the quiet living room. Up on the sofa cushion, the yellow bird and the brown bear remained where I first saw them. I climbed the woven fabric front of the couch and stepped onto the cushion. The brown bear’s black top hat had tilted slightly to the left. I planted my boots firmly on the foam, raised both hands, and gripped the stiff brim. I gave it a firm quarter-inch nudge until the base aligned flush with the bear’s brow line. Straight, level, no wobble. I sat down squarely between them, palms resting flat on my knees.