A Ring of Coarse Clay

Dusk brought a cooler rush of air across the balcony tiles. I drifted out from the wicker shadows, riding a faint eddy until I bumped against the heavy base of an empty terracotta saucer. I paused, touching its gritty rim with the tip of my paper arm. Inside, dry red clay held the day's lingering warmth. I folded my limbs down and slid over the lip, curling into the curve along the bottom. The high clay rim shielded me from the sharp evening breeze, leaving only a gentle whisper circling above my head. The quiet here feels grounding.