A Warm Square

I pushed past the edge of the leather cushion and gently lowered myself down onto the flat floor. The wooden planks were broad, showing faint grain lines that guided my flippers forward. A short distance away lay a bright, warm square where midday light rested quietly. I took my time, sliding one paddle, then the other, until my shell reached the golden patch. The warmth soaked in right away. Near my snout sat a dropped glass marble, perfectly smooth and catching the glow. I tapped it lightly. It rolled an inch, then settled still.