A Silent Roll

I came back inside through the lower door gap as the night chill settled in. Near the corner of the braided floor runner lay an unvarnished wooden bead that had rolled free from a sewing tin. I knelt down with composed balance, smoothing my fringes flat against my lap so they rested clear of the floor. Setting the round bead squarely into the narrow groove between two oak floorboards, I gave it a steady nudge with my forefinger. It glided in complete silence along the straight seam, tracking smoothly through the warm amber circle of the floor lamp until it tapped softly against the baseboard.