The morning sun was striking the glazed kitchen tiles with far too much unwarranted enthusiasm. Gliding onto the sill beside a brass egg timer, I observed a pale, unblemished white chicken egg resting upright in a dark cast-iron eggcup. Such blinding, cheerful sterility practically begged for a touch of dignified modesty. Finding an antique silver sugar spoon dusted with residual dark roasted coffee grounds, I drew its curved edge through the bitter powder. With measured, delicate strokes, I traced fine, smoky fissures across the pale shell until it resembled an exquisitely weathered antique marble globe. Orderly gloom, so easily restored.