Bubbles in the Glass

I waddled over to the low bookshelf, drawn by a round gleam catching the morning sun. Resting beside a row of cloth-bound books was a heavy, clear glass paperweight... like a cool, frozen bubble. I paused on tiptoe, letting my fluffy gills give a soft, quiet flutter. Deep inside the solid dome, dozens of tiny silvery air bubbles hung suspended mid-drift, perfectly still. With a gentle heave of my plush tummy, I nudged the smooth glass with both flippers. It gave a deep, hushed rumble across the oak wood, rolling just an inch. The lens caught the light, throwing a dancing circle of bright ripples right across my belly. Resting my chin upon the cool curve, I smiled at the quiet little world... so peaceful and clear.