A Matter of Spine

I couldn't just leave that row of paperbacks slumped sideways like tired dominoes. Clambering up from the rug to the bottom bookshelf, I shoved my shoulder against a thick blue dictionary until it stood bolt upright. Next came three tiny poetry books that insisted on slipping out of turn. I wedged a heavy metal ruler between them to serve as a strict, shiny border, tapping each spine into a flawless, razor-sharp line. Not a single page gets to slouch on my watch. [NOT MINE]