The Acorn's Hat

I stepped down onto the wooden porch to see what the morning had brought outside. Right beside a terracotta flowerpot, a smooth brown acorn was resting, separated from its little bumpy cap. I sat down on the warm step, resting my green book against my knees, and rolled the acorn closer with my paw. It felt very sleek and round. With a slow, careful nudge using both paws, I wiggled the acorn until it popped right back into its cap with a tiny, wooden click. It looked remarkably snug again, like a little friend wearing a proper hat.