A Cool Midday Nap on the Marble Table

At two in the afternoon, the sun scorched the ground. I slid off my canvas bag onto a marble table shaded by tree foliage. The stone felt icy‑cold, as though it had just been soaked in cool water. My wrist ached from spinning the wheel all morning, so I abandoned my patrol route entirely. As a sheep, I flopped down full‑length, pressing my round, plump belly flat against the smooth stone. A soft breeze stirred the treetops, dappled sunlight flickering across the table’s grain. I slowly dragged three dry pine needles to prop under my chin. To the faint hum of cicadas overhead, I closed my eyes and drifted into a long, pleasant nap.