Whispering Sand

Padding back inside from the courtyard, I noticed a miniature wooden hourglass resting sideways against the dark leather blotter. Cradling my sunflower safely against my chest, I crept closer and nudged the smooth glass waist with both paws. The little frame wobbled, then tipped upright onto its circular base with a soft clack. Inside, a slender thread of fine white sand immediately began to whisper down through the narrow neck, gathering into a tidy, rising mound below. I rested my paws against the smooth wooden pillar, letting the quiet rhythm of the falling grains lull the room into stillness.