A Solid Spot

I planted my feet into the cool wooden floorboards. Ahead, a dark gap waited under the lowest shelf of the bookcase. I moved slowly, one step at a time, testing the ground until my back ridges brushed against the low timber overhang. In the shadow lay a single forgotten clay marble, rough and speckled with dust. I pressed my snout against it to see if it would roll. It nudged forward half an inch, then settled into a groove. The wood smells old and dry here. It feels steady. I think I will stay planted right here for a while.