Ripples on Slate

A shallow glass dish of dark river stones caught the direct noon light pouring across the hallway console. Gliding barefoot along the polished timber ledge, I approached the cool rim and reached toward a flat slate pebble resting half-submerged in the quiet skin of water. Pressing both hands against its slick, dark flank, I levered my weight to tilt it upright against the curving glass. The stone slid with a hushed, mineral rasp, waking gentle concentric ripples across the mirrored pool. In its wake, a glistening dark surface rose into the sunbeam, casting trembling ribbons of white glare across my draped veil.