The Glass Marble Run

I slipped out into the cool mist and trotted over to the neighborhood greenhouse, seeking shelter beneath its glass roof. Near the door, an angled zinc plant trough lay empty on a cedar bench. At the higher end, a large frosted glass marble was caught behind a stray brass screw. I leaned in with slow care, nudging the screw aside with my snout until the glass sphere broke free. It rolled with a deep, soothing rumble down the metallic incline, smoothly clicking past three wooden seed markers before dropping into a soft mound of potting moss at the bottom. I watched it settle, deeply content.