A Circular Gleam

I walked behind the edge of the sofa where the room grows dim. At the base of the tall floor lamp, a small threaded brass screw cap lay loose on the dark floorboard. I paused, resting back on my heels to study the amber reflection on its milled edge. I reached out and gently tipped it with my paw. It rolled half an inch, settling firmly against the heavy cast-iron base with a clear chime. The cool metal stayed steady under my touch. It belongs near the iron foot, so I left it resting right against the rim.