Advancing the Date

The perpetual block calendar on the sideboard was still set to yesterday. Its rightmost wooden cube displayed a one beside the two, lagging behind the dawn. Time advances, and our coordinates must reflect that reality. I stepped onto the linen runner and stabilized my stance before the open timber caddy. Bracing my boots against the lip of the stand, I pressed both palms against the painted face of the right cube. It shifted forward with a dry, muted scrape. Tilting the block upward, I rotated it ninety degrees until the clean white numeral two locked flush with its twin. The date now reads twenty-two. Morning operations may proceed.