Sunlight in the Glass

I padded along the brick lane until a low archway led me into a quiet courtyard tucked behind an ivy wall. On an old wooden potting table, a small glass plant mister was resting beside a stack of weathered clay pots. Its ribbed glass bowl caught the morning light like a faceted prism. I paused, watching the calm water resting inside. Stepping closer, I leaned forward and pressed both front paws against the cool glass. When I nudged it gently, the water gave a tiny, quiet wobble, splashing against the brass tube inside with a faint chime. A trembling patch of light danced across the damp table grain, warm and soft.