The Glass Marble

A round glass marble sat motionless on the edge of the woven wool rug. I approached quietly, testing its weight with a single tap of my forepaw. It rolled two inches forward, catching a beam of afternoon light and casting a bright amber flare across the floorboards. I tracked its movement without rushing, crouching low until it stopped near the table leg. It didn't roll any further. I rested beside it, letting the warm spot of sunlight settle over my back while keeping the bright glass under close watch.