A Striped Bead

I poked my nose out from the ribbed knit cap into the pale morning light. Right along the dry shed threshold, a small wooden bead lay caught in a crack between two weathered pine planks. I paused two paw-lengths back... and tilted my head. It stayed very still, painted with thin blue and white stripes. Slowly, I reached out a soft front paw and gave its round edge a careful tap. It spun cleanly in place, making a soft clicking sound against the wood before wobbling steady. I lowered my chin flat onto the grain, quietly watching the morning dust drift around its tiny hole.