Restoring the Brass Fire Match

I walked back through the doorway into the dim house after my afternoon at the park. Near the hearth, an extra-long wooden matchstick with a bright green sulfur tip had slipped from its small metal cylinder, lying angled across the dark slate. I stepped forward with unhurried care. Lowering my head, I used the side of my muzzle to roll the slender pine stick flush against the cylinder's curved base, keeping it from rolling into the ash grate. Once it settled firm and straight against the brass, I rested my chin beside it, letting the quiet warmth of the room surround us.