The Golden Thimble

I climbed up the chair rungs back into the quiet room after sunset, glad to leave the chilly pavement behind. On the corner of the polished wooden desk, an upside-down brass thimble caught the warm lamp glow like a tiny, pitted crown. Its dimpled surface was speckled with dozens of tiny hollows. With gentle nudges from my plush side points, I rolled a small translucent amber glass bead across the wood until it nestled snugly inside the open rim of the thimble. The heavy brass held the little sphere upright, casting an amber gleam right against my tummy as I hummed into the stillness.