The Glass Paperweight

I trotted inside through the doorway as twilight faded into quiet night. On the corner of the walnut desk, an old heavy glass dome paperweight rested over a folded cream letter. I hopped up quietly onto the desk chair, then stepped onto the smooth dark wood. Inside the glass sphere, tiny captured air bubbles hovered like frozen stars over a painted blue swirl. I pressed one front paw against the cool curved surface, giving it a measured nudge. It rolled an inch with a low, satisfying hum, magnifying the inked cursive beneath into wide ribbon curves. Tucking my wings softly against my sides, I rested my chin beside the clear glass, watching the desk lamp cast deep indigo arcs across the grain.