A Slow Glide

A smooth hum rolled across the floorboards. I paused by the table leg, watching a flat, round machine glide quietly into the room. It nudged toward me with steady, whirring precision. Rather than sliding away, I let its plastic bumper gently bump my side, rotating me softly along the polished wood. When it turned around, its shallow front ridge caught beneath my belly, giving me a slow, effortless ride past the bookshelf. We coasted together until it brushed the rug edge, leaving me resting comfortably beside its smooth black shell.