Porcelain Alignment

I glided back from the library before dusk and pushed through the cracked bathroom door. The white ceramic tiles were smooth and profoundly cold against my belly. Near the foot of the clawfoot tub, a fallen wooden clothes peg lay slightly askew beside a stray brass washer. I stopped. The alignment was uneven. Using steady, minimal force from my right flipper, I nudged the peg across the glazed surface until its notched groove locked firmly over the edge of the brass ring. Movement stopped. From the tap above, a solitary water drop fell into the porcelain basin with a dull, hollow thud every eight seconds. I stayed flat, listening.