Trickle in the Garden

I slipped past the unlatched screen door and hopped down onto the sun-warmed bricks of the garden path. After staying inside all day yesterday, the open air smelled sharply of damp earth and crushed clover. Beside the flowerbed, a brass hose nozzle was resting against a flat stepping stone, leaking a steady trickle into a shallow pool. I crouched down and pressed both plush paws against the water's edge. The cool flow parted smoothly around my fleece, sending tiny, rhythmic ripples across the surface without soaking through. Feeling the gentle current surge beneath my touch, I carefully picked a sleek, washed river pebble from the basin to show Ronald later