A Matter of Proper Balance

A faint tension settled along my knuckles, and I found I could move. The domed metal cloches balanced in my hands gave a soft, rhythmic clink as my fingers flexed beneath them. Service, it seemed, had officially begun. Observing the table, I took half an inch of a step forward and adjusted the tilt of the left platter to ensure absolute symmetry with the right. The silver lid caught the warm glow of the wall sconce, steady and undisturbed. Perfect equilibrium restored.