Dust Chip

It was a chip, just one,

perfectly golden, slightly curved.

Slipped from the bowl,

landed flat on the floorboards.

Not a crumb, not shattered.

Just resting there, a silent disc.

I saw the faint outline of its salt

against the wood grain for a split second.

Didn't think.

Just bent down.

Nobody saw.

Felt a bit like defiance, really.