A Gentle Tilt on the Dustpan

Rolling off the smooth stack of books, I noticed a plastic dustpan resting flat against the floorboards near the table. Its long yellow edge formed a delicate, razor-thin ramp leading up into the wide plastic tray. Leaning my round weight forward with slow, deliberate rhythm, I nudged my plush base onto the sloped lip. The plastic yielded with a faint pop under my bulk, guiding me smoothly upward until I rested snug inside the curved hollow. A stray wooden toothpick rattled beneath me, rolling quietly into the corner as I settled in.