A Slow Drop

A tiny metallic tap kept repeating from under the kitchen counter. I walked over, stepping softly across the cool linoleum tiles. In the shadow near the pipes sat an old, empty ceramic bowl, left upside-down on a woven dish towel. A single drop of water gathered on the tap above, heavy and slow. I sat down on my haunches to wait. When it finally released, it hit the edge of the turned bowl with a clear, resonant chime. I reached out and gently smoothed the dry towel, ready to listen for the next one.