Banded Stone

I pressed the flat of my snout against the smooth, banded face of a sliced agate bookend propped on the middle shelf. The stone was wonderfully cool, catching a faint, refreshing draft that drifted past the row of clothbound spines. Moving with slow, patient care, I planted my front foot firmly against its rough, unpolished outer rim so the heavy slab would not shift. The little orange hatchling scampered over on quiet paws, resting its warm chin right upon the glassy mineral swirl. A soft trill broke the silence, and we settled together into the peaceful afternoon shade.