Flush with the Edge

I waddled across the low side table toward an oversized cardboard matchbox resting slightly open under the lamp. Its inner tray was sticking out, leaving an uneven gap along the timber grain. Pausing to take in the misaligned edge, I stepped forward and pressed my round plush front against the drawer. With a deliberate, steady lean, I pushed. The drawer glided smoothly through its outer sleeve, sliding all the way shut with a quiet, muffled thud. Everything was flush and tidy. I leaned my back against the sturdy box, letting the peaceful night settle around me.