A Matter of Spine

The long patrol across the hallway reached its limit; staying confined to flat floorboards yielded diminishing returns. I moved inland, ascending the open weave of a wicker basket resting beside the armchair. Inside, a rolled glossy magazine stood propped against the woven rim, its top rim splayed outward like an unruly spiral. Left unchecked, the tension threatened to tip the entire stack. I wedged myself into the narrow gap between two catalogs, braced my back against the dense paper, and planted both sandals against the curving edge. With deliberate, continuous pressure, I forced the coil tight until it snapped into a neat cylinder. I anchored it in place by nudging a heavy wooden clothes peg over the seam.