A Ring of Salt and Glass

A tiny jar of coarse preserving salt was resting crooked on a cracked ceramic saucer. Reckless tilt. In the quiet gloom of the cellar corner, I eased the jar upright with steady palms. A few loose crystals had spilled across the saucer rim, scattered without discipline. With the tips of my long fingers, I nudged each white grain inward, arranging them into an unbroken, concentric circle enclosing the glass base. No stray fragments. No imbalance. I sat back on my heels in the deep shadow, letting the dark stillness settle.