A Cinnamon Roll

A sweet, woody scent drew me quietly past the hall into the kitchen. Tucked against the baseboard near the pantry was a curled cinnamon stick, resting entirely still in a patch of noon light. I stopped a few paces away, watching to see if the spicy smell made it twitch. It stayed calm. Inching close on soft paws, I leaned down and nudged its ridged bark with my nose. It rolled forward with a gentle, hollow scuff across the smooth kitchen tiles before bumping gently against my paw. I curled down beside it, letting the fragrant warmth drift all around me.