The Tack

It's lurking, waiting for me to drop my guard. I searched for it this morning, and it is clearly not in the middle of the floor. It came off of a calendar that had been tacked to the wall, which fell sometime during the night (probably knocked down by roving fairies). Right now I know the tack is there, most likely pointy side up, just waiting in its camouflaged natural environment for me to forget that it is somewhere ready to pierce my bare foot with its pointy sharpness. It was only biding its time on the wall there for ages, pretending to hold the calendar securely in place anyway when all along it just wanted to dig itself into my sensitive toes, or most likely the dead center of my heel.

I can already feel how much it's going to hurt, and how it will hurt even more because I know it is waiting, and because I can't find it, I will be mad that I fell for its trapdoor spider routine.

Damn thumbtack.