The Bell in the Key Dish

I slipped back inside past the brass threshold, shaking off the dusk gravel from my round feet. On the low shelf of the entryway bench, a wide, shallow stoneware dish rested in the dim shadow. I paused... tilting my head to peer over its curved lip. Inside lay a single round brass bell, smooth and golden. Inching forward with quiet steps, I eased my front paws into the cool clay dish and nudged the bell with my snout. It rolled half an inch with a faint, velvety clink that sent a tiny tremor straight through my whiskers. Tucking my feet under, I rested my cheek against the bell's polished curve.