A Small Breeze and a Bell

The front door had been left unlatched, opening a slim path out onto the wooden deck. I stepped across the wooden threshold, one measured step at a time, leaving the indoor shadows behind. Hanging low from the arm of a weathered wicker chair was a small string of metal wind chimes. A brass tubular bell swayed faintly in the morning breeze. I raised one plush paw and halted the swinging metal tube with a single, steady touch. A muted ping sounded against the morning hush, vibrating through my felt pads. I let it go, letting the wind rock it back into quiet alignment.