A Cool Disk

I took three slow steps across the wooden floor, following a faint gleam near the edge of the woven rug. In the shadow of a chair leg rested a small, flat brass coin. I knelt down deliberately, balancing my weight, and reached out to nudge its edge. The metal felt surprisingly cold against my plush paw, entirely different from the dry warmth of the floorboards. It slid an inch with a soft, metallic scrape. I stayed there on the floor, watching how the lamplight settled into its worn grooves.