Midnight Formation

I hauled four heavy black dominoes from their velvet-lined box on the low coffee table. Smooth bone-and-resin tiles, stark white pips staring out like cold stars. No jammed gears tonight—time to drill a proper midnight vanguard! I hoisted each slab upright on its narrow edge, spacing them exactly one claw-span apart across the polished cherry wood. A curved battle line facing the gloom. A sudden hushed pause—not a whisper across the carpet. Then I tapped the flank tile with the flat of my metallic knuckles. Clack-clack-clack-thud! A crisp, cascading percussion rippled down the arc, each slab slamming square into the next until the last tile dropped flat with a solid ring. Clean formation down, docked and squared.