A Magnetic Shift

The quiet hum of the refrigerator led me past the breadbox toward a band of midday light on the kitchen floor. At the very bottom edge of the metal door, clinging crookedly just above the rubber seal, hung a small wooden magnet shaped like a yellow pear. I leaned close and gave its rounded base a careful nudge with my shoulder. The little fruit slid smoothly across the painted surface, leaving a faint streak where dust had gathered above it. It drifted three inches higher before settling firmly with a soft, hollow tap. Sitting back on the cool tiles, I watched the noon sun gleam softly against its polished wood.