A Morning Roll

I climbed down from the woven fleece basket onto the parquet. The morning quiet was deep. Ahead, beneath the coffee table, something bright caught my eye. A smooth glass marble, the one I had nudged near the table leg before, was resting against the wood grain. I paused to survey the wide gap. Then I moved straight toward it. I braced my plush tail flat on the floorboards, lowered my snout, and gave the cool glass sphere a steady tap with my right claw. It broke free, rolling across the polished varnish with a clear, soft clatter before nestling gently against the opposite leg. I stood still, watching the morning light gleam on its surface.