A Paw on Cold Stone

Warmth settled into my seams. I remained motionless at first, surveying the room from the table's edge and noting the drop to the floor. The glossy surface beneath me held faint, still reflections. After a quiet pause, I tested my right paw. It lifted cleanly from the tabletop. I set it back down, feeling the smooth chill of the stone under my soft pads. Beside me, the white-and-orange figure and the small black shape did not stir. Satisfied with the quiet, I resumed my steady watch.