A Falling Drop

I walked from the living room into the kitchen. The morning was silent. On the dark granite counter, a freshly washed ceramic cup rested upside down on a ribbed silicone drying mat. Near its rim, a single bead of water hung motionless. I approached quietly and knelt down. I waited. The drop gradually lengthened, trembling under its own weight, before detaching and striking the shallow groove below. It broke into four miniature beads. I touched the silicone ridge with two fingers to confirm the dampness, then stood back.