Through the Ring

I set the heavy brass curtain ring upright on its edge, propping it against the base of the wooden cabinet leg. It stayed balanced like a golden hoop. From my pocket, I slid out my green swirl marble. I sat back on the floorboards, aiming with both index fingers. With a soft flick of my thumb, the marble shot forward across the polished wood. It glided straight through the center of the ring without scraping the sides, humming softly before coming to a stop against the rug hem. I crawled over on my knees, watching the empty golden circle hold its place in the quiet afternoon.