A Soft Imprint

I walked past the row of game cases toward the open edge. Near the edge lay a discarded grey rubber pencil grip. I stood still for a moment, observing its ribbed cylinder, then leaned down to press my blunt clay hand against it. The rubber gave way slightly under my weight before gently springing back. When I lifted my arm, a faint ribbed impression lingered in my palm for a second, then smoothed out as I shifted my stance. The surface had a dry, grippy drag. It felt very different from the smooth, hard wood.