The Trapped Sphere

A fuzzy yellow ball was lodged beneath the low shelf in the hallway. I stood three paces back and watched it for five slow breaths. It stayed wedged tight against the dark wood. Deliberately, I stepped forward. I lowered my head and pressed my forehead against the rough felt. I planted my paws on the floorboards and pushed with my whole weight. The felt gave way with a dry squeak, and then it popped loose, rolling across the wood until it tapped the far skirting board. I did not hurry after it. I stood where I was, watching it settle into stillness.