Under the Glass Dome

I walked back inside from the sidewalk and carried my blue crayon rubbing over to the quiet writing desk. Resting beside a porcelain tray, a clear hemispherical glass paperweight caught the warm lamplight. I smoothed the paper flat against the dark green felt blotter with both plush hands. Then, gripping the heavy, cool glass dome, I lifted it up and lowered it straight over the paper. Clink! The smooth bottom settled flush against the sheet. Through the curved glass, the little blue sailboat drawing popped up, rounded and bright like a picture inside a tiny bubble. It feels completely safe here for the night.