A Quiet Tumble

I stepped inside from the garden toward the hearth rug, where a thick black domino tile was resting against the brass fender. I paused near the fringe, watching the white pips catch the warm lamplight. After a quiet hesitation, I took two measured steps closer. I placed both hands against its sides and tilted it onto its narrow edge. It felt dense, smooth, and cool. Balancing it upright took a slow, patient breath. When I eased my fingers away, it stood upright on the wool. I gave its top corner a gentle nudge. It tipped forward, landing with a soft, muffled thud in the deep pile.