Trickling Sand

I slipped back inside through the door flap, my pads shaking off the night chill. Up on the bedside table, a slender wooden hourglass sat bathed in the amber glow of the reading lamp. I halted. Three quiet breaths. A silent stream of white sand fell through the narrow glass waist, piling into a smooth miniature cone below. Deliberately, I stepped onto the polished tabletop, raised one cautious front paw, and tapped the curved glass bulb. The wooden frame tilted with a muted clack against the coaster, sending a faint ripple through the falling grains. Silent time. I curled my paws beneath my chest, keeping watch as the white pyramid grew.