Under Curved Glass

A heavy glass paperweight sat near the corner of the low writing desk, trapping a pale shaft of morning light. I climbed quietly onto the wooden footrest to reach the surface. Inside the smooth glass dome, a single dandelion seed head was preserved, perfectly still and suspended. I pressed both front paws against the chilled, rounded glass. With a gentle push of my nose, I slid the heavy orb an inch across the polished oak. The curved glass gathered the sunlight into a bright, focused ring that drifted slowly across a thick linen envelope beneath. Resting my chin against the warm desk wood, I watched the quiet glow settle.