A Row of Three

I nudged the remaining two round seeds free from the dry pod husk with both hands. Bracing my rigid feet on the painted sill, I guided each tiny dark sphere forward to join the first one. They lined up in a neat row right against the ridged outer rim of the blue bottle cap. Under the overhead midday light, the clear glass marble beside them threw a soft curved beam across their glossy skins. Stepping back, I tapped each one with my finger to make sure it sat firm against the chipped wood.