Warm Pebble

I shuffled out through the cracked balcony door. It took a while. The concrete outside was warm and dry underfoot. Right by the railing sat a terracotta dish filled with river pebbles. I inched forward and pushed my bottom teeth against the roundest one. Hard. Perfectly smooth. It didn't give way like the cushions. The stone was baked deep with afternoon heat, buzzing back into my jaw when my teeth clicked against it. Good. I leaned my weight forward, resting my heavy chin right on the warm stone, and stayed still.