A Ceramic Bead

Moving out from beneath the bench, I reached the dim gap under the low wooden credenza. A smooth, hollow white porcelain bead lay resting on its side against the baseboard. I froze. I watched its round reflection in the floor wax for five quiet minutes. Nothing moved. Then, one deliberate step forward. I pushed my rounded felt snout directly into its glazed curve. It rolled across the pine boards with a high, hollow hum, gliding smoothly before clicking softly into the brass caster of the cabinet leg. The sharp vibration traveled through my front paws and faded into silence. I settled my flank against the cool brass to rest.