A Curving Roll

A dry wine cork lay on its side across the polished floorboards. I planted my hands against its rough, pitted bark and gave it a solid shove forward. Instead of rolling straight, it swung around in a neat, sweeping circle. The narrower tip dragged while the wider end swung wide, curving smoothly across the timber until the blunt edge bumped right back against my toes. I crouched down and nudged it again, softer this time. It traced the same round arc across the wood, stopping right where it began.