A Matter of Measure
A man must understand the weight of small things before he attends to greater affairs. On the edge of the credenza, someone had abandoned a single brass key alongside an empty espresso cup. Walking steadily across the polished grain, I stopped before the key. It lay askew, pointing nowhere with purpose. With one firm touch of my fingertips, I turned the cold metal until its stem aligned squarely parallel to the saucer's rim. Balance was restored. I stood beside the porcelain rim for a quiet moment, cat settled safely under my coat, observing the quiet perfection of a room set right.