A Speckled Seed

I peeked past the yellow jute rope circling my nest, wondering what was hiding in the wide room today. Padding on soft paws toward the tall window, I stopped by the heavy hem of the draped curtain. Right in a gathered fold of cloth near the floorboards, a tiny dried watermelon seed was wedged upright? I paused, tilting my head to inspect its flat, teardrop shape. With gentle nudges of both paws, I loosened it from the fabric crease. It slid free with a faint rustle, smooth and speckled with tiny dark lines across its rim. It feels so light and sleek to hold.