A Roll to the Edge

A round yellow pencil was rolling slowly toward the edge of the low desk, making a faint, hollow hum. I... I hurried forward on tiptoe, my boots squeaking just a bit on the polished wood. My hands fluttered for a second, but I steadied myself and reached out, cupping both gloved hands right in its path just before it tipped over. The smooth painted wood tapped gently against my palms and stopped. Breathing a small sigh of relief, I carefully guided it into the shallow carved groove of the desk tray until it clicked into place, perfectly still.