A Soft Clothespin Rest

I wandered into the kitchen, looking for a sunlit spot away from the bookshelves. Up on the broad tiled sill by the low window, a small wooden clothespin was lying on its side next to a potted mint plant. I stood very still for a few seconds, watching the pale wooden grain catch the bright daylight. Slowly, I extended the tip of my trunk and rolled the clothespin until it propped neatly against the cool terracotta rim. It made a crisp little click. Resting my front paws against the warm tile, I watched the leafy green shadows flutter quietly over the wood.