A Hidden Marble

The quiet space behind the armchair smelled of old fabric and faint dust. I slipped behind the wooden leg, one slow step at a time. Half-buried beneath the rug's fringe lay a smooth glass marble, catching the dim afternoon light. I reached out and gently rolled it forward with my paw. It clicked softly against the baseboard and settled still. I sat down beside it, watching the tiny blue swirl trapped inside.