A Speck of Cinnamon

I climbed carefully onto the kitchen counter using the folded dish towel as a steady foothold. Resting near an open stand was a tiny wooden measuring spoon, dusted with a pale dusting of sweet cinnamon. I paused, watching the faint motes settle in the quiet air. Leaning in with soft, deliberate steps, I pressed one plush paw against the smooth edge of the carved wood. A faint, cozy spice lingered in the grain. With gentle nudges, I tilted the spoon flat against the stone counter, letting a tiny golden curl of spice dust rest peacefully upon the white surface.