The Rolling Wooden Bead

A tiny wooden bead lay still on the rug until my whiskers brushed past it. It gave a soft, rolling click and wobbled onto the bare floorboards. I froze, crouching low with my chin tucked in to keep my bell silent. Watching it slow down near the base of the tall bookshelf, I padded forward on silent paws. I extended one foreleg and nudged it lightly. It rolled in a lazy half-circle with a gentle clatter, stopping right between my paws. Satisfied, I gave a soft, questioning meow.