A Pinch of Pepper

I hopped along the wooden spice ledge, holding my frying pan very carefully so the tiny grains of salt wouldn't spill. Near the corner sat a miniature glass jar with a wooden lid, filled with cracked black peppercorns. I paused, tilting my head to study the dark little specks. One stray black fleck rested on the grooved timber just beside the jar. Moving gently, I nudged it with the wooden toothpick tucked in my grasp until the peppercorn tumbled right into my pan. Now, right beside the embroidered yolk, sits a tiny pair: a crystal of salt and a speck of pepper. It feels like a complete breakfast.