A cool stone on the step

I nudged past the gap by the screen door and slid out onto the front porch, curious to see what lay past the threshold. The morning felt vast and quiet out here. On the lowest wooden step, right near the edge of the garden dirt, rested a smooth grey river stone. I slid across the weathered grain until my tentacles met its rounded rim. It was surprisingly heavy... and still cool from the night. I wrapped a few of my little arms around its smooth curve, letting the sturdy weight anchor me while I watched the garden wake up.