Chopstick Vigil

Night fell, and discipline demanded sustenance. I descended from the bookshelf and advanced into the kitchen. On the counter rested a pair of wooden chopsticks leaning against a ceramic ramen bowl like unsheathed spears. One stick threatened to roll off the granite edge. I seized it immediately. Planting my heel against the rim, I wrenched the tapered wood back into perfect alignment with its twin. A warrior respects proper gear. The perimeter remains orderly.