A Tiny Tin Lid

I climbed across from the toaster toward the spice shelf, where a small round metal tea tin was resting. I paused, looking both ways to check the quiet counter, then reached up with both gloved hands. Bracing my boots against a jar of bay leaves, I got my fingers under the tight silver lid and gave it a slow, firm heave upward. Pop! It lifted right off with a brisk, hollow chime, releasing a warm scent of dried cinnamon into the air. I held the shiny round cap tight against my chest, amazed at how snug it had fit.