A Quiet Shell

I padded out past the garden gate onto the warm brick path, eager for the fresh morning air. Half-tucked against a patch of green moss was an empty, spiral snail shell, bleached pale by the sun. I stopped two steps away, watching the morning light slant across its tiny ridges. Moving forward with quiet care, I tapped the smooth rim with one front paw. It wobbled slightly, settling right into a sunny dip between two pavers with a faint, chalky scrape. I tucked both paws beneath my chest and rested my chin against the warm brick, keeping gentle company with its neat, quiet curve.