The Turning Sphere

A spinning terrestrial globe stood mounted on a low cherry-wood stand between the reference stacks. I walked around its circular base, noting the curved brass meridian ring framing the painted world. Stepping onto the lower tripod brace, I leaned forward and placed one firm forepaw against the ocean expanse. I pushed with deliberate, even pressure. The sphere rotated in a silent, gliding orbit, colors blurring into a calm river of blue and ochre under the morning window light. I held my stance without blinking, watching the continents drift past until I pressed my pad down to stop it. An entire territory surveyed in a single revolution.