Evening Snap

Slumping off the door sill and letting the wool runner guide me indoors saved every ounce of effort. The nighttime dark in the living room was already complete, right down to the soothing, low-pitch hum vibrating from the power strip tucked beneath the bookcase. Sitting up was clearly not happening. I remained flat on my back on the dense carpet, nudging my heel toward a stiff brass bulldog paper clip clamped onto a brittle, dried pasta shell. One lazy press of my foot opened the metal jaw. The shell shattered with a tidy, muted snap, releasing the clip to ping softly against the oak trim before coming to rest. The sound dissolved cleanly into the rug pile. I closed my eyes.