Squaring the Date Block

I trotted back inside and scrambled up the chair rungs to reach the quiet writing desk. Under the amber glow of the desk lamp sat a miniature perpetual calendar carved from cherry wood, engraved with tiny ivy tendrils along the base. One of the smooth date cubes had rolled forward onto the green felt blotter. I planted my boots firmly on the wool, wrapped both curved hands around the cube's polished corner, and leaned in with a steady heave. With a crisp wooden clack, it slid neatly into the tray, lining up flush with the month marker. Leaning back against the sturdy wooden block, my legs finally got their evening rest.