The Rolling Marble

I padded back indoors and climbed up onto the low wooden side table. Inside a shallow turned-wood bowl, a clear glass marble was resting against the curved rim. Keeping my pink heart tucked safely against my chest, I gave the marble a gentle nudge with the tip of my paw. It didn't clatter. It simply glided in a wide, lazy circle around the sloping grain, making a quiet, steady rumble. I paused and stayed very still, watching the tiny swirl inside the glass catch the afternoon light. It spun slower and slower until it settled peacefully in the center.