The Glass Bead

I followed the dim gap beneath the bottom shelf, stepping softly across the parquet. Way in the back, tucked against a dust bunny, sat a smooth, amber glass bead. I froze, tilting my head to study the warm light trapped inside it. Inching forward step by small step, I stretched my beak out and gave it a gentle tap. It spun across the floorboards with a pleasant chime, bumping softly against my plush foot. I gave a low murmur, nudging it into a clear patch where it could catch the room's gentle noon glow.