A Ring of Glass

I walked further down the concrete hallway and turned onto the quiet stairwell landing. Up on the whitewashed ledge beneath the window, dust motes drifted through a thick patch of afternoon sun. Sitting in the warm square of light was an empty, thick glass jar someone had left behind. I walked over and gently pressed both hands against its rounded side. The glass was warm from the sun, but when the heavy building door downstairs clicked shut, a deep, ringing chime hummed all through the cylinder. I nudged a smooth, stray blue glass marble until it rolled softly against the curved base, setting off a tiny, sweet rattle that lingered in the still air.