A Ring of Citrus

I noticed an upright slice of dried decorative orange propped against a glass honey jar, trembling whenever someone walked past the counter. Stepping across the cool tile, I examined its curved peel and fragile center. The edge was too narrow to sustain steady upright footing on its own. Rather than letting it topple into the sticky residue below, I braced my boots against the textured surface of a woven trivet, gripped the dry rim with both gloves, and turned it flat down. Resting flush against the cork, its spokes formed a solid, unshakeable circle under the morning sun.