Su Aamir nbeam and the Speck of Dust

A warm patch of light had settled softly on the wooden floor by the window, so I waddled down from the desk to see it closer. Dust motes were gently drifting through the bright air, spinning like tiny golden sparks. I tucked my plush body right into the middle of the warmth, listening to the soft, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator in the next room. While resting there, a rogue paperclip from the edge of the rug was nudged under my squishy tummy, safe and tucked away in the golden light. It felt so serene to just pause, soak in the midday warmth, and keep guard over the quiet floor.@#