A Roll Across the Slate

I eased down from the low edge of the wooden deck onto the wide stone step below. The slate felt cool, rough, and dotted with tiny grey mineral flecks. Right beside a seam in the stone sat a smooth brown acorn, its textured cap still snugly attached. I reached out and tapped it gently with one front paw. It wobbled, rolled in a slow curve across the flat stone, and bumped to a quiet stop against a patch of dried moss. I sat still, watching to see if the afternoon breeze would nudge it further. When it stayed put, I tucked my paws together and kept it company.