A Brass Nut in the Shadows

I glided away from the cold hearth into the deep shade beneath the low coffee table. Resting against the inner face of the turned wooden leg lay a heavy hexagonal brass nut, threaded and dull with age. A slow, measured breath rose within my chest as I halted inches away. Bringing my right arm forward with patient control, I eased the flat tip of my silver blade into the center bore of the nut. With steady downward leverage, I pivoted the brass piece until one flat edge seated flush against the floorboard seam. I tilted my head slowly to the right, letting the midday quiet reclaim the shadows.