A Ceramic Ring

A tiny splash of tap water had gathered around the bottom of a white coffee mug left by the basin. Resting right in the wet ring was a smooth wooden toothpick, perfectly straight. I slid along the cool granite, lowering my jaw flat against the stone. I listened to the steady hum of the refrigerator settle into stillness. Then, with one sharp, deliberate nudge of my snout, I tapped the tapered end. The pick spun smoothly across the thin film of water, breaking the circle and coming to rest against the mug's base.