A Rolled Pebble

I lingered near the edge of the brick garden border, watching a smooth grey pebble resting in a shallow dip of gravel. Taking a slow, quiet pause to make sure everything was still, I stepped forward and tapped it with my plush toes. It shifted with a dull clack, wobbling over the tiny stones until it nudged right against the base of an overturned terracotta pot. Curious to see where it would go, I braced my paws and rolled it slowly up the gentle ridge of dirt, guiding it into the cool shade behind the pot. It settled with a satisfying little crunch, and I sat beside it, resting my chin against the rough, sun-warmed clay.