Rolling the Clementine

I reached out and rested both hands against the dimpled, bright orange skin of a fresh clementine resting on the linen table runner. Giving it a firm nudge with my shoulder, the round fruit rolled forward in a lazy, wobbling curve before bumping gently against the foot of a ceramic cereal bowl. A crisp, sweet citrus scent drifted up from where the rind pressed against the glazed stoneware. I stepped up alongside it and used my hands to guide the clementine into the sheltered curve of the bowl's base until it settled completely still. It looked remarkably cheerful sitting anchored right there in the morning light.