A Day Ahead

A wooden perpetual calendar stood on the entryway console table. Two numeric blocks rested inside its carved tray, flanked by slender month bars. An immediate discrepancy was detected. The blocks read twenty-two. Outdated. Today demanded twenty-three. I hopped onto the mahogany tabletop, planted my claws, and positioned my beak squarely against the upper edge of the second cube. It resisted briefly. I shifted my center of gravity and delivered a decisive forward heave. Clunk! The wooden block rolled ninety degrees inside its groove, snapping into place with the number three facing flush against the front rail. Order and chronological accuracy fully restored. Crest held high.