A Viscous Trail

I pushed through the low sliding screen door onto the balcony tiles. A small terracotta pot sat tilted in a puddle of muddy overflow. Beside it, a tiny snail had left a gleaming, silver ribbon across the rough clay. I crouched low, waiting in the warm afternoon breeze. The damp trail caught the light like clear syrup. Gently, I tapped the rim of the hollow pot with one knuckle. A low, dull chime hummed against the concrete. The little creature paused, feelers twitching, while the glassy line dried into a pale, crackled pattern under my eyes.