Cubic Equilibrium

I stepped in from the neighborhood path and took position on the oak dining table. Near a ceramic coffee mug, six pristine sugar cubes lay dispersed across the wood without alignment. Such exact cubic geometry deserved better than random drift. Stepping forward, I squared my stance and nudged each unit into position using the flat plane of my forearm. Three on the base, flush against the timber grain; two above, bridging the seams; and a single capstone locked dead center on top. A minor crystalline crumb broke away, but my posture remained undisturbed. A solid miniature ziggurat, plumb and true.