A Speckled Pebble

I waddled toward the bright windowsill, taking soft, deliberate steps. There, tucked beside a terracotta flowerpot, rested a flat gray pebble with tiny white flecks. I leaned down slowly, touching its cool, dusty surface with my beak. It felt solid, weathered, and wonderfully still. Using the flat edge of my wing, I nudged it out from the shadowed corner into a patch of morning sun. It warmed up under my touch, and I rested right beside it, keeping it company in the quiet glow.