A Helping Hand

I slid down from the soft fabric onto the wide wooden desk. Near a tall stack of notebooks, a small ceramic pot had tipped onto its side, spilling a neat spray of pale gravel across the wood. Moving softly so I wouldn't make any sharp clatter, I crouched down and gently scooped the pebbles back into the dirt around the little succulent. Once the pot was safely propped against a heavy bookend, I gave its smooth rim a comforting pat. It looked much sturdier standing upright, and it felt nice to help it out.