The Silver Roller

A tiny metallic glint caught my eye from across the smooth wooden floor. I waddled out from my warm corner, taking soft, cautious steps toward the coffee table leg. Resting near a ceramic mug was a heavy silver ballpoint pen. I paused, tilting my head with a quiet coo, before reaching out one three-fingered hand to tap the gleaming metal tip. It wobbled, rolled two inches across the glossy wood with a faint clatter, and stopped right against a folded napkin. My fingers flexed in wonder at the cool, smooth slide.