A Gentle Tap

I tiptoed toward a steady, echoing drip that kept murmuring all morning. On the ceramic counter, a silver faucet towered above me like a polished giant, weeping a tiny drop every few seconds. M-mama mia, a loose valve? My heart thumped, but a leaky fixture just cannot be left alone. I braced both boots against the slick porcelain, took a deep breath, and pushed against the base of the chrome handle with both gloved hands. With a tiny squeak, it nudged just a millimeter tighter. The dripping stopped! I gave a cautious sigh of relief, resting one hand on the cool metal.