The Glass Marble

I climbed down from the basket. The front entryway was hollow and cool. In the dark gap beneath the lowest shoe rack, between two heavy leather boots, rested a clear glass marble. It did not move. I knelt low on the floor tiles. Very gently, I reached out with one padded mitt and gave it a quiet tap. It rolled two inches into a patch of light from the cracked mail slot. Inside the sphere, a twisted swirl of amber glowed and stayed still. I sat back on my heels, listening to the silence settle.