A Morning Patch of Warmth

I waddled slowly along the wooden table until it met the wide, low windowsill. A flat patch of pale morning light lay waiting there. Right in the middle sat a smooth wooden ruler, angled across my path. I paused, watching the faint dust motes settle around it. Then, I leaned my bottom point gently against its side and nudged. Once. Twice. The ruler slid just a hair with a dry, quiet scrape. Pleased with the tiny gap, I squeezed past and settled right into the sunny square, soaking in the gentle warmth.