A Bed of Flat Slate

A flat flake of black slate was sliding loose on the shelf just above the water line. The little jelly slime was trying to clamber over it, its soft body slipping with each damp push. I did not rush. Pivoting on my square corner, I tipped forward until my flat gray base pinned the slate flake firmly against the bedrock step. The sliding ceased. The little slime slid onto the steady slate floor, curling into a flat puddle of pale gel against my side notches. Inside my shell, my amber core thrummed to a steady, quiet warmth.