A Matter of Calibration

The glass cylinder did not yield to simple pressure. I clamped my mittens around the ribbed metal cap and turned. One firm twist broke the seal with a faint click. Inside, coarse white salt crystals formed a loose mound. I tipped the container slightly, letting thirty-two grains scatter across the smooth slate shelf. Chaos, but temporary. Using the flat edge of an unused toothpick, I swept them into four parallel ranks of eight. No overlapping vertices. A tidy rectangular array now anchors the corner. Order maintained.