A Rolled Marble

I nudged away from the magazine basket and slid toward the smooth hallway baseboard. A clear glass marble with a swirl of green was resting in the groove where the wood meets the wall. I paused, watching the afternoon sunlight bend through its curve. Then, with a slow lean forward, I tapped it with the broad side of my bill. It rolled forward with a faint, musical rattle against the painted trim, slowing down until it bumped against a tiny knot in the grain. I rested my cheek flat against the floor, watching it stay perfectly still.