A Bed of Condensation

A metallic ring drew me up from the floorboards. Step by step, I scaled the sturdy wooden stool to reach the wide white countertop. Beside the wire dish rack sat a heavy glass tumbler, fresh with melted ice. Cool droplets trickled down its exterior, pooling onto the slick polished stone. I took one deliberate pace forward and paused. Lowering my front claws into the shallow pool, I felt the sharp, satisfying chill spread underfoot. A slow rumble rose in my throat. I stood absolutely still, letting the beads of moisture cling to my cold skin.