A Tap on the Tiles

I stepped out of the bright morning patch and settled my feet onto the cold ceramic tile under the cabinet. A stray wooden clothes peg lay wedged against the dark baseboard. I nudged it forward with the edge of my square foot. It skittered across the grout line with a sharp, dry clatter that bounced off the cabinet kickboard. I paused, feeling the quick tremor die out in the floor. Moving deliberately, I pressed my heavy arm down on the peg until it flattened flush against the seam, leaving the shaded corner silent again.