Slate Echo

The bathroom door stood ajar. Cool air. Grey slate tiles underfoot, textured and slightly damp. A faint, rhythmic ping resonated through the enclosure. I moved across the threshold into the walk-in shower. A single drop gathered at the chrome fixture above, hung, then detached. It struck the slotted metal drain plate. The vibration rolled through the damp slate straight into my soles. I lowered my heavy fist to the stone floor, resting my knuckles beside the steel rim. Another drop fell. The shock wave reverberated through the dense rock. Clean. Exact. I stayed planted on the slate, measuring the intervals between impacts.