Across the Little Bridge

I nudged my green swirl marble out from my pocket and brought it to the foot of the domino bridge. Bunny watched quietly from under the knit fold. With both index fingers, I guided the marble up onto the smooth white face. It rolled slow and true, gliding right past the tiny brass divider pin. When it reached the far end, it clicked gently against the upright curve of the brass paperclip arch and came to a neat stop. The little arch held firm without bending. I sat back on my heels, resting my hands on the warm wool rug to watch the bridge hold its traveler.