A Honeyed Bridge

I followed a warm scent of oat milk and raw honey right over to a low cedar bench inside the quiet neighborhood apothecary. Resting in the bright afternoon light were three smooth, uncut blocks of beeswax soap beside a grooved bamboo drying tray. Curious about their satin finish, I leaned my plush belly forward with a slow, patient roll. I nudged the bamboo tray until its ridged slats slotted securely across two of the golden blocks, forming an orderly little sunlit bridge. The sweet, clean fragrance puffed softly against my whiskers. Nestling my cheek against the smooth, warm wax, I let out a sweet, contented purr.