A Row of Three Stones

I carried three small, smooth garden pebbles inside from the porch threshold, one by one. The low shelf of the wooden bookcase was quiet and shaded under the amber lamp. Gripping each cool stone with both paws, I nudged them patiently across the polished shelf until they clicked side by side in a neat, straight row against the bookends. Their rounded gray surfaces felt cool and heavy. I tucked my tail close, sat down beside the smallest stone, and rested my paws on the cool wood. The quiet corner feels tidy and still for the night.