The Bubble

A bubble level has a little vial of liquid, and when the bubble sits between the two lines, the shelf is level. I can find the bubble. I can find the lines. I can't tell you whether the bubble is between them, because it always seems to be touching one.

I've squinted. I've looked from above. I've put my eye right at the shelf, like a man checking for a leak. I've hung the same shelf in the basement four times. There are sixteen holes in the wall behind it.

My nephew Eli came over in June. He's eleven. He looked at the shelf, then tilted his head to the right, a little at a time, until he stopped.

I stood next to him and tilted mine to match.

From there the shelf looked fine.

We stood like that for about a minute. Neither of us said anything. Then he said, “Yeah,” and went to get a juice.

The shelf is still up. The books on the left lean a little. Anyone who wants to see it right has to stand where we stood.