Bead Runner

I scrambled onto the slanting counter outside the dry goods stall, where an old wooden abacus was propped against a tin canister of cinnamon sticks. Did you really think I'd leave dozens of smooth counting beads sitting in boring rows? I hopped onto the polished frame and kicked my heels straight across the topmost brass rod! Click-clack-clatter! A burst of black and cherry-red wooden beads slid into a frantic sprint, clattering against the frame like a flurry of tiny wooden shoes. The jolt bumped a dropped cinnamon quill rolling across the worn counter right between my feet. I threw my arms out to balance, letting out a breathless snicker!