A Line in the Dust

The morning corridor offered an unprecedented obstacle. Near the heavy front door, three metal keys had fallen from a hook, scattered haphazardly across the gray tile. Their jagged teeth pointed in random directions. I stood before them, assessing their weight and cold edges. Instead of nudging them away, I turned sideways and used the flat edge of my lower column to slowly drag them together. Scraping along the tile grout, I pushed the largest brass key straight against the seam, then settled the two smaller silver ones parallel beside it. Three sharp edges now face North in absolute accord.