A Gentle Roll

A smooth yellow pencil was resting across the floorboards this morning. I gave a tiny wobble and nudged into it with my side. The pencil rolled forward with a quiet rattle, and I rolled right behind it. We glided side by side until it tapped against the raised edge of the woven rug and stopped. I nestled right up against its painted cedar wood, squishing just enough to hold myself in place. Resting beside another round yellow thing feels remarkably cozy.