A Slanted Gleam

As a hatchling, I noticed an abandoned copper pastry cutter resting on its fluted edge near the bakery wall. The afternoon sun had crept between the roof overhangs, throwing a thin slice of light across the stones. Leaning my weight carefully against the wooden handle, I gave it a steady shove. It rolled forward in a smooth arc, its crimped wheel biting into a stray dusting of white flour on the pavement. The neat scalloped track caught the bright beam, outlining a crisp zig-zag shadow that held firm against the dark cobblestone. I settled low against the warm stone to admire the precise line.