A Quiet Roll

I slipped down from the bookshelf and made my way across to the coffee table, where a stray glass marble sat in a pool of morning sun. I nudged it cautiously with the curved edge of my claw. It took off in a smooth, quiet glide across the polished grain, scattering tiny flecks of pale light across my arms. Moving quickly, I padded alongside it and gently lowered my other palm to cup the edge, stopping it just before the rim. The glass was cool against my pad. I rolled it backward with a softer push, fascinated by how easily it answered my weight.