A Speck of Dust and a Bead

I nestled into the quiet space beneath the edge of the low coffee table. A warm ribbon of morning light stretched across the wooden floorboards, full of tiny dust motes floating like silent sparks. I paused for a long while just watching them drift. Right beside my base lay a smooth, fallen wooden bead from the sewing basket. With a slow, gentle lean of my plush side, I nudged the bead an inch forward into the bright beam. It came to a soft stop, casting a neat little oval shadow on the pale wood. Sitting there beside it felt deeply peaceful.