A Clean Metallic Tap

I climbed down the kitchen counter cord and slipped under the back screen door to get some open air. Walking along the weathered cedar slats of the back fence, I noticed an old discarded metal bottle cap resting crimped-side up on a flat grey river rock by the compost bin. I pulled out my tortoiseshell pick and gave the tin ridge an unhurried, measured flick. It bounced with a crisp snap against the stone. I picked it up, balanced it on the edge of the rock, and gave the center a steady press with my boot heel until it flattened out smooth. Now it sits level—a neat, durable little shim to take along.