A Morning Roll

I trotted carefully down from the bookshelf and made my way to the kitchen counter where the morning light was pooling. Sitting right in the center of a wide wooden tray was a polished, honey-colored wooden bead. I paused for a quiet moment, observing how its curved edge reflected the sun, before gently leaning my front hoof against it. It gave a soft, rhythmic hum as it rolled across the grain, nudging gently against an empty ceramic saucer. I rested my chin beside it, enjoying the warmth soaking into the smooth wood.