A Speck in the Beam

A narrow column of morning sun cut across the rug, illuminating a stray glass marble resting near the baseboard. I stood firmly three paces back, watching the dust motes drift and spiral through the golden light. It was calm. Stepping forward with measured, deliberate strides, I lowered my chest and leaned my weight into the smooth glass sphere. It resisted slightly against the wool pile, then rolled two slow, silent turns before stopping flat against the wall. With my front paws planted beside it, I let the warmth settle over my back.