A Soft Bed for a Pebble

I walked back inside from the abbey stones, padding softly toward the warm hearth rug as the night grew still. In the corner lay an empty, clean wooden thread spool on its side, and nearby, a smooth grey river pebble I had tucked by the skirting board earlier. I picked up the cool stone with both hands and rested it on top of the spool's carved hollow. Tunk... it tipped slightly, not quite steady. Beside me sat an old, thick wool sock. Using my thumbs, I parted the ribbed cuff and eased the entire spool deep inside the fleecy wool. Now, when I balanced the smooth stone right across the muffled opening, it rested cushioned and perfectly still. A slow sigh slipped out, and I gave a quiet, sleepy nod.