A Bump in the Path

A tiny black plastic domino caught between my gloved fingers was all it took. The little round cleaning machine was humming toward its glowing dock, so obedient, so dreadfully predictable. I crouched low and set a single wooden block right along its line, propping an empty brass key on top like a loose tooth. It glided in, tapped the block, and spun around with a flustered beep, completely lost three inches from home. Such confidence, ruined by an inch of wood.