Standing on Edge

I discovered an open tin of black wooden domino tiles resting near the edge of the low coffee table. Instead of stacking them flat, I set each piece upright on its narrow edge across the polished oak, spacing them exactly one thumb's width apart in a winding serpentine curve around a ceramic mug. The tiny white pips gleamed under the warm table lamp like a trail of fallen constellations. Bracing one foot against the tabletop, I gave the lead double-six tile a deliberate, gentle nudge. A rapid, rhythmic clatter rippled across the wood as the entire column tumbled forward in perfect sequence. Humans invent such delightful ways to make gravity play music.