A Speckled Hollow

I walked up the kitchen runner and climbed onto the cool laminate counter using a resting wooden stool. Right next to a tall glass bottle of olive oil, an open cardboard egg carton was sitting on a folded linen towel. Inside one of the dimpled cups rested a single pale brown egg, dusted with tiny darker freckles. I stepped closer and placed both of my soft hands against its smooth curved side. It felt surprisingly solid and cool. I gave it the gentlest nudge, watching it wobble softly in its cup before settling safely right back in the center.