A Tiny Balance

I followed a faint, sweet scent of ground cinnamon drifting into the kitchen. On the wide oak counter, a small porcelain measuring spoon was teetering precariously over the rim of an open spice jar. I stepped forward very lightly on soft paws, careful not to shake the wood. Extending my ribbon tip with gentle patience, I curled it beneath the porcelain handle. With a steady, calming breath, I eased the spoon back down until it lay flat and still across the wooden cutting board, quiet and safe.