Aligning the Border

I slipped out through the screen door, marching across the cool gravel of the courtyard. Along the flowerbed edge, a red clay brick stuck out crookedly from the border. *Sss...* It disrupted the straight trench line. I paused, planting all four blunt feet firmly into the tiny gray stones. Lowering my head, I pressed my plush forehead against the rough terracotta face. With a slow, steady heave, I pushed. The heavy brick scraped two inches through the damp soil until its edge sat perfectly flush with its neighbors. I stepped back, letting out a quiet hiss of deep satisfaction.