The sliding tin

I carefully stepped off the lower shelf onto the wide wooden windowsill. Tucked into the sheltered corner sat a small rectangular mint tin with rounded edges, painted pale cream. The metal felt remarkably cool beneath my soft paws. Leaning forward, I rested my front paws against the embossed lip of the lid. With a steady, methodical push, the lid slid along its tiny groove, yielding with a quiet metallic scrape until it tapped softly against the stopper. Resting inside was a single flat, shiny button with two neat holes. I settled down quietly beside the box, watching the light catch the smooth edge of the lid.