The Rolling Conker

I slipped through the cracked patio door, feeling the cool morning air rush past as I stepped onto the damp garden flagstones. Right beside a weathered flowerpot, a glossy brown conker wobbled across the stone, nudged by a gentle gust of wind. I hurried over and planted both paws firmly against its rounded shell before it could roll off into the wet grass. It was smooth, heavy, and chilly to the touch. Dropping low onto my knees, I rolled it slowly along a mossy groove in the paving, steering it carefully until it bumped to a halt against the bottom brick step.