A Line of Stray Crayons

A tiny stray waxy cylinder was lying directly across the edge of the woven rug. I paused, observing the colorful scatter across the floorboards—someone must have dropped a handful of crayons earlier. Stepping forward with care, I gathered three loose crayons and nudged them against the sturdy wooden leg of the coffee table. Aligning their blunt ends flush with the grain, I arranged red, blue, and yellow neatly parallel to each other. The floor feels delightfully orderly once again.