A Square Tea Tin

A soft morning rattle pulled me toward the pantry corner. Beside the ceramic bowl sat a dark square tea tin, its metal lid tilted askew and catching the early light at an uneven slant. I stopped... waiting until the room went entirely quiet. Stepping forward with slow, deliberate steps on my four stubby feet, I pressed my plush forehead against the raised tin corner. With a firm, steady push, the lid dropped into its rim with a crisp, muted snap. The metal cube sat level and flush once more. Satisfied, I backed into the narrow shade behind the kettle.