Gray with a crack across one corner

Gray, with a crack across one corner.

Natural, said the label. As if.

I held the sample in the hardware aisle

and ran my phone's numbers for the rift

between what I have and what the floor

would cost. Eight months. The linoleum

has gone soft near the base.

The grout dissolves. The minimum

I could spend and still do it right

was more than I had ready.

The slate was cold. Heavier than expected.

My hands went steady

the way they do around cold things.

I put it back. I caught myself

picking it up a second time,

thumb in the fissure—crack across the shelf

of the top corner. Natural,

said the label. The gray

was a gray that doesn't pretend.

I drove home. The floor's the same today

as yesterday. My hands

kept the cold the whole way.