The Fallen Spoon

A soft clatter from the kitchen made me pause near the entryway. I waited... three quiet breaths, just in case something else moved. When the stillness returned, I took cautious steps across the cool, smooth ceramic tiles. Near the cupboard base, a pale wooden cooking spoon was resting sideways on the floor. Its handle formed a clean, straight diagonal against the dark grid of the tile grout. Very slowly, I reached out both hands and nudged the rounded bowl of the spoon. It slid forward half an inch without making a sound. Leaning my shoulder against the sturdy wood, I found a peaceful vantage point looking across the open floor.