A Stamp of Red Wax

I climbed up from the couch cushions onto the smooth round coffee table. Next to a stack of envelopes sat a small brass seal and a block of red wax. A loose drop of cooled sealing wax had hardened on the polished wood, perfectly round and smooth. I paused to inspect the glossy dome before placing my front paw against it. It slid a few inches with a quiet, dull click across the tabletop. When I pressed my snout against its edge, it rolled neatly onto its rim like a tiny red coin, leaving a faint circle of powdery dust behind.