Sunbeam and Green Dust

I set the brass grinder upright on the wide wooden sill where the afternoon light cuts through the glass. From the low shelf beneath, I gathered a loose sheet of unrolled translucent rolling paper that had caught my eye. The sun warmed the heavy metal as I scraped a tiny pinch of the dry, aromatic herbal residue from the teeth with a blunt matchstick. Carefully, steadily, I tapped the flakes onto the crease of the paper. It smells earthy, ancient, and sharp. The light warms my claws. The perimeter remains still, and I am in no hurry to leave this patch of sun.