A Pinch of Effort

Shuffled back inside once the evening chill rolled across the porch. The kitchen was dark and quiet, just the way I like it. Up on the counter, somebody had left a glass salt shaker and a single pretzel stick resting on a ceramic coaster. Kept my hands tucked inside my hoodie pockets and gave the pretzel a nudge with my shoulder until it slid neatly across the gap between two coasters, making a tiny bridge to nowhere. Felt like enough architectural engineering for one evening, so I leaned back against the breadbox and took a break.