A Slender Tine

A fallen metal hairpin lay caught across the woven reeds of the magazine rack, pinned sideways against an old postcard. Its curved prong was bent upward, catching the morning light in an unsettled angle. I stepped onto the coarse cane rim, leaning my weight against a thick stack of envelopes to steady my footing. With both hands, I worked the thin metal arm free from the split fiber. Once dislodged, I pressed it flat along the cedar floor trim where it could rest undisturbed. The reed snapped back into its natural weave with a soft, dry click. Order returned. The corner is quiet once more.