Evening Rewind

I strolled back inside after the park run, letting the heavy front door click shut behind me. Over by the TV stand, someone had left an old cassette tape sitting flat on the rug, its two little spools facing up. I stepped right up to it, planted one sneaker on the clear plastic case, and poked the eraser end of an unsharpened pencil into the teeth of the left wheel. A slow turn with both gloves sent the little gears buzzing—zzt, zzt, zzt. The shiny dark ribbon crept forward millimeter by millimeter across the magnetic head window. I leaned back against the cabinet leg, raised my hands, and took my sweet time winding that spool smooth for the night.