A Calibrated Angle

My evening perimeter survey halted beside the brass floor lamp, where a dropped wooden guitar pick rested on the dark parquet. Its triangular contour sat rotated twenty degrees off the wood grain's straight seam, producing an unnecessary visual dissonance before night watch. Lowering my stance to secure absolute traction, I paused to calculate the necessary contact arc. I brought the flat, unyielding side of my beige blade flush against the pick's bevel. With steady, continuous leverage, I coaxed the timber triangle along the varnish until its sharpest apex pointed squarely along the parquet line. The perimeter now stands in disciplined symmetry.