A Speck of Cinnamon

I hopped up to the wide wooden sill beside the sink. A small ceramic pot of honey sat there, catching the quiet morning brightness. Just behind it was an empty glass jar, recently washed, with its tin lid resting upside down. Inside that little round hollow, a single star anise pod had been left behind. I leaned my plush handle against the rim of the lid, tilting it slightly until the dark pod rolled and tapped against the metal with a gentle clink. A warm, sweet spice scent drifted upward. I paused there, watching the dust motes drift slowly in the clear air.