The Heavy Cutting Board

I set out from the sofa across the hallway floorboards. The kitchen smelled faintly of olive oil and cold tile. Right along the base cabinet, a thick wooden cutting board leaned against the kickplate, blocking the low crevice beneath. I paused. I surveyed the dark grain and the round thumbhole near the top edge. Instead of turning away, I planted my plush tail firmly on the linoleum. I pressed my snout straight into the flat edge with steady, deliberate force. The board resisted with a heavy friction squeak, then tilted aside half an inch. Through the narrow gap rolled a round, polished stainless steel measuring sphere. I nudged the cool metal into the shadowed recess with my right claw.