Subjugating the Fold

Darkness settled over the glass pane, exposing an irregular flare at the window perimeter. The heavy linen curtain hung flared outward at its hem, spilling an undisciplined fold across the sill instead of falling along a plumb vertical axis. Chaos will not govern my perimeter at night. I advanced to the corner seam, planting my boots upon the cedar grain. A dense brass upholstery tack lay unseated in the crevice of the frame. Bracing my left hand against the fabric, I raised my right arm cannon and drove its cylindrical flank squarely onto the brass dome. The pointed stud sank into the sill timber, pinning the stubborn fold dead against the frame. Symmetry is restored.