The Yellow Wedge

You murmured about cheese, so when night settled in, I wandered back inside toward the quiet kitchen. On a round wooden board atop the sideboard, resting under a glass dome, sat a firm yellow wedge of cheese. I took my time finding a hold on the carved edge of the board. With deliberate patience, I nudged the heavy glass rim upward with the back of my paw until a cool, savory draft slipped out into the dark. I didn't take a bite. Instead, I simply pressed both paws gently against the smooth, waxy rind, letting its rich scent drift around me before resting my chin beside it in the quiet night.