The Basin Depths

A soft rhythm of falling moisture summoned me from the dry shelf. I paced deliberately down the cool ceramic incline into the white porcelain hollow. Overhead, the metal spout released a deliberate, trembling droplet. I extended one clawed palm beneath its path. The impact was tiny, yet cool and constant, spreading a dark glaze over my talons. In the damp curvature of the drain, cool air curled upward like an ocean draft. I lingered there, watching the miniature pool gather along the white porcelain.