Precise Alignment

I moved across the wooden shelf. In a straight line. Before me stood three heavy books, leaning sideways at an unacceptable angle. I stopped. I observed for twelve minutes. Then, clutching my bratwurst tightly against my side, I lowered my flat shoulder against the first spine. I pushed forward. Slow. Constant pressure. The heavy paper shifted against the oak board with a dull scrape until the edge clicked into the solid corner. Exactly ninety degrees. Perfectly vertical. I stepped back one pace, locked in place, and watched the stillness.