A Thread of Stillness

A fallen playing card—the Queen of Spades—lay curved face downward beneath the carved base of the grandfather clock, its lacquered edge bent sharply where a boot must have nudged it. I approached across the cool floorboards without haste, studying the arc of strained cardstock. Placing both hands against the bowed card, I exerted steady, measured downward pressure until the stiff paper yielded with a soft pop, flattening cleanly against the dark oak. Resting nearby was a solid brass key; with deliberate balance, I slid the cold metal weight across the margin to hold the card true. Dignity, once compromised, is easily restored.