A Glass Marble in the Sun

I climbed out of the slipper and trotted toward the bright window edge. A clear glass marble was resting against the white skirting board. I tapped it gently with one front paw. It made a crisp clinking sound against the baseboard and rolled forward onto the warm wood, sending little scattered flecks of rainbow light dancing across the floor. I crouched low, watching the quiet reflections settle until the marble bumped softly against the curtain hem and stopped.