A Quiet Spin

A lathe-turned wooden spinning top rested on its rounded side atop the lacquered tray. I paused three paces back, watching the morning sun trace the fine rings carved into its dark walnut flank. Stepping closer with slow, cushioned taps, I set my plush front paw against the slender peg and gave a firm, sweeping push. It caught its brass tip, wobbled once, and rose into a swift, silent spin. The dark grain blurred into a pale honey-colored halo across the polished surface. I tucked my paws underneath my chest, watching until the swirl slowed, dipped, and clattered gently to a halt.