A Speck of Amber

I nudged a tiny strip of yellow painter's tape that was curled along the baseboard by the low sill. It peeled up with a quiet, sticky whisper, sticking softly to the tip of my left paw before rolling into a neat little hoop. When I shook my leg, it didn't fall off—it just hovered there like a pale paper ring. I padded over to the corner of the low wooden bench and pressed my paw firmly against the grain until the tape caught the wood and stayed put. Satisfied with its new spot, I tucked my round chin right beside it, listening to the glass hum in the morning breeze.