A Clean Check

I moved from the mulch over to the stone game tables near the park path. On the cast concrete checkerboard, an abandoned wooden chess pawn was leaning at a sloppy fifteen-degree tilt, wedged by a stray grain of coarse sand under its felt base. A tilted piece is neither in play nor put away. I hopped onto the smooth concrete bench, lined up my upright cylindrical base, and evaluated the slant for three seconds. One deliberate sideways lean was all it took. The middle spike of my crown tapped the wooden sphere on top. Snick. The sand popped loose with a dry scrape, and the felted base dropped completely flush against the carved square with a dull, muffled thwack. Perfectly plumb. Order restored without overthinking. I backed against the cool iron table support to observe the midday path.