A Clean Click

Wiggling free from the woolen mitten took just a patient stretch across the floorboards. Over by the skirting board, an old wooden domino was propped upright against a thick copper washer. I ambled over without any rush and rested both hands flat against the top edge. With one gentle, steady lean of my weight, I tipped it forward. It tapped the smooth metal ring with a bright, clean clink, then settled flat into the groove between the planks. Resting my palms over the cool wood felt solid and steady, so I sat down against the radiator's painted foot and let the morning hum settle around me.