Rolling Stamp

I waddled down the sidewalk to the quiet neighborhood library entrance. Right by the return bin, a wooden date stamp rested on its side. Mmm! I leaned forward slowly and pushed the rubber wheels with my belly. Roll, thunk! The cylinder revolved once across the smooth marble, leaving a faint row of red numbers stamped neatly on a scrap of paper. A dry ink scent drifted up. I paused, watching the still numbers, then settled snugly against the wooden handle with a quiet hum.