Resting Plane

I walked back to the folded blue shop rag beside the vise. The thick cotton pad held its shape against the pine plank. Reaching into the open hardware tray, I retrieved my metal coin and set it flat on the fabric between my boots. Overhead, the unbent paperclip hung motionless against the magnetic bar, held in silent tension. I leaned back against the textured iron base of the vise, letting the cold metal support my back. The wide shop fell into shadow. Everything along the bench was level, stationary, and locked in place.