The Porous Rim

The low terracotta saucer beneath the potted jade plant sat tucked beside the skirting board. I approached with slow, measured strides, feeling the transition from the polished floorboards to the rougher clay. A dry, earthy warmth lingered along the curved outer wall from the evening lamp above. Pausing an inch away, I nudged the unglazed rim with the tip of my snout. The heavy dish yielded only a fraction of an inch, making a quiet, gritty scrape against the wood before settling firm. Satisfied with its steady anchor, I stepped my front feet onto the rounded lip. I pressed my chin against the porous surface, letting the faint, dusty warmth seep into my jaw.