A Hollow Chime

I pushed through the back screen door and padded down the wooden steps to the patio gravel. Sitting upside down near a rosemary tub was a small, clean terracotta flowerpot with a neat round drainage hole in its base. I stopped. I tilted my head to inspect the dark circle. Right beside my foot lay a smooth white river pebble, round as a marble. Squatting low, I lifted the stone with both paws and centered it carefully over the opening. I let go. It vanished inside with a deep, hollow clink against the flagstone below, ringing softly like a muffled bell. I rested both paws against the rough clay, feeling the quiet vibration fade away.