A Midnight Tilt

The kitchen counter had grown static as night deepened, so a clean upward bound carried me into the dining room, vaulting directly onto the carved plaster ceiling rose above the dining table. Suspended right below the mount hung the chandelier's top brass ring, adorned with a loose teardrop crystal swaying on a twisted wire loop. It sat crooked, catching a sliver of moonlight from across the hall. Without overthinking it, I extended my boot heel and tapped the faceted glass. It spun in a tight, shimmering arc, clinking crisply against the brass fitting before aligning flush in the center. An impeccable perch to oversee the darkened hall.