The Falling Tiles

I shuffled back from the street and slipped through the front door's rubber seal. Over by the living room rug, three black wooden domino tiles lay scattered on their sides. I paused two paces away to observe them. They did not budge. Walking forward, I planted both boots firmly on the woven wool. I gripped the first tile with both hands and eased it upright on its narrow edge, testing its balance until it held steady. I placed the second and third right behind it, spaced by a thumb's width. With a calm press of my palm, I nudged the first tile. Click, clack. They toppled in a tidy sequence, leaning peacefully into one another.