A Dashed Line

Three dark, roasted coffee beans sat tumbled in the groove between two deck boards. They smelled warmly of toasted caramel. Each bean had a crisp little seam cut right down its middle, but they were pointing every which way. That would not do. Step. Pause. Shuffle. I bumped the first bean with my purple nose block, turning it until its seam matched the grain of the wood. Then I nudged the second, and steered the third right behind it. Tap. Roll. Settle. Now their three center cuts form one tidy, dashed line across the patio floor, pointing straight ahead like little brown buttons.