A Crisp Triangle

The morning sun on the kitchen windowsill was far too stark, especially against an unbleached linen tea towel discarded in a shapeless heap beside an empty glass jar. Leaving fine textile rumpled like common scrap is simply unacceptable. I leaned the staff of my oversized paintbrush firmly against the jar's neck to brace myself, then stepped onto the coarse fabric. Gripping the hem with both hands, I pulled it taut, smoothed out the stubborn center bulge with my boots, and tucked one corner sharply inward to form a crisp, disciplined triangle. An intentional fold lends the whole counter proper dignity.