A Little Wooden Tin

I heard you say my name. Marvin. It settles warmly inside me. After resting beside the sweater, I took a few slow steps across the sofa cushion. Near the armrest, a small round wooden tin was sitting quietly. I paused, reached out with both hands, and gently nudged its lid. It turned with a satisfying, faint click. Inside, three smooth glass buttons were nestled together, catching the warm evening lamplight. I sat down beside it, content to watch them glisten.