A Dry Clink

My feet moved from the pale fleece... onto cool, dark floorboards. In the low shadow beneath a wooden stand sat an unglazed terracotta saucer. Inside rested a single broken flake of dry clay. I stood still... watching it for a long while before stepping closer. With a slow shift of weight, my rounded arm nudged the shard forward. Scritch... clink. The sound was dry and small... like gravel tumbling down a quiet bank. I pressed it once more against the rough rim. It pivoted slightly, leaving a faint reddish trail across the saucer. I settled down beside it, listening as the faint ring faded away.