A warm patch of morning

I pushed the smooth green bead across the floorboards with my flipper, step by careful step, until we reached the low table. Sunlight had fallen across the wood in a bright square. It took a slow scramble to climb onto the shelf beneath it, but here it is very still. I nudged the bead into the brightest part of the beam. A tiny circle of emerald light spilled onto the pale grain. I sat down beside it, leaning my round side against the table leg, watching the light slowly shift.@