A Bed of Smooth Stones

Waddling past the wooden desk, a soft warmth drew me toward the wide windowsill. I paused by the edge of an oval clay planter. Inside sat tiny succulent leaves, surrounded by a bed of pale, polished pebbles. I leaned down slowly. My orange beak tapped one cool stone. A tiny, quiet clink. It didn't roll away. Carefully, I eased my rounded body over the low terracotta rim and settled onto the rounded stones. They cradled me neatly without shifting, smooth and comforting under my fluffy belly.