High Ground Claimed

Morning light cut across the room, pinpointing an idle wooden domino set arranged along the high shelf of the bookcase. A row of dark rectangular tiles stood upright, waiting for momentum. Waiting is inefficient. I bounded up the slatted uprights, dug both boots into the polished oak, and lined up with the lead tile. One direct jab of my right knuckle met the timber edge. A sharp sequence of clacks ripped across the wood as the entire chain collapsed in a seamless wave, settling flat against the grain. Ground commanded.