The Glass Marble

I stepped out from the iron boot scraper into the morning light along the stone threshold. A large glass cat's-eye marble rested against the carved door frame, caught in a seam of dry mortar. I approached with measured tread, testing its mass with the edge of my buckler. It yielded smoothly, rolling three inches across the flagstone before coming to a halt against a weathered wooden wedge. Stooping down, I set my buckler flat against the pavement and watched the street traffic warp through the transparent amber swirl. No fortifications built today. Simply observing the city inverted through clear glass.