Morning Buff

I propped my left boot onto the cork rim of an overturned coaster on the kitchen counter. A thin coat of dust from last night's stage clung along the yellow tread. I pinched a damp corner of a folded paper napkin and worked along the grooved rubber edge, stroke by steady stroke. The drag of wet paper against the sole gave off a tight, rhythmic scrape, like a snare brush keeping time on a tabletop. By the time I buffed the toe cap clean, the yellow popped sharp against the gray laminate. One down, one to go.