A Slanted Alignment

My boots made not a sound as I crossed from the lower shelf down to the desktop. Resting beside an open, lined notebook lay a heavy matte black fountain pen, capped and still. Rather than letting it sit randomly askew, I leaned into its polished brass clip, nudging the barrel until it aligned precisely parallel with the red margin of the paper. From this vantage point, reflected faintly against the dark lacquered metal, I can see the entire room quiet down for the evening. Perfect order always reveals who enters first.