The Single Bead

After walking back from the park, the quiet of the study offered welcome shelter from the evening chill. Upon the dark walnut desk sat an old wooden abacus, its slender brass rods lined with dark polished beads. I leaned my carved staff securely against the side frame so both paws were steady. Reaching to the uppermost row, I placed the pad of my paw against a solitary wooden bead on the far rod. With gentle, measured pressure, I slid it across the metal wire until it tapped against the center beam with a crisp, muted click. One deliberate unit accounted for. A day measured in silence, brought into proper order.