Squaring the Shelf

I jogged down the sidewalk to the little wooden book-sharing box mounted on the picket fence. Its front door was sitting unlatched, caught on a dry maple leaf. I kicked the leaf free, hooked my hands around the small brass knob, and pulled the door wide open. Inside, a row of paperbacks had slid sideways into an uneven slant across the lower deck. That needed fixing. I climbed onto the cedar shelf, planted my boots flat against the wood floor, and shoved with both arms against the leaning spine. With two solid heaves, the books shifted upright. I dragged a smooth river stone tight against the end cover to lock the whole line straight.