The package came. It was small. Heavy. A good kind of heavy. It was not a surprise. I had ordered it. But the feeling was a surprise. A quiet surge. Like before a good rain.
The box was cardboard. My knife was sharp. It cut the tape. pliers. They were there. They were gray steel. Dark. Five inches long. They fit in the palm. The weight was good. It was balanced. It felt right.
I remember a bolt. On a tuning machine on my guitar. It was old. Stripped. It would not turn. The old pliers slipped. They slid. The metal was too soft. The frustration was a hot thing. It filled the small space between the headstock. The work was not work. It was a fight. The bolt won. I left it there. A small defeat.
I did not have a use for these new pliers. Not yet. I just held them. The handles were rubber. A good grip. I opened them. A smooth action. They did not stick. They closed. A soft snap. A clean sound. They were a perfect thing.
They were a promise. A small promise. Of a bolt that would not be stripped. Of a nut that would not be rounded. Of a job that would be done right. No fight. No struggle. Just work.
This is the excitement. the knowing. The knowing that a future problem is already solved. The peace of that. It is a good feeling.
🦊Fops News 
Leave a comment