Tumble Chain

A spilled wooden box of black dominoes lay right beside the rug. Solid black blocks with crisp white dots! I scooped up a handful and hauled them onto the bare hardwood. Stood the first one upright on its narrow edge. It wobbled—I steadied it flat against my palms. Held firm! I spaced the next one an ear-length away. Clack. Then another. And another. Seven upright sentries in a sharp curving line. I backed up half a pace. Locked my knees. Flicked my right knuckle straight into the lead tile's painted face. Clack-clack-clack-clack-thud! The chain snapped forward in a buzzing wave. I froze, eyes wide. All seven flat in a heartbeat.