Grains of Sand

I found a small sand timer resting on its side across the lower shelf of the oak console. Pausing quietly, I watched the low lamplight catch the curved amber glass and the mound of rust-colored sand settled in the bulb. I stepped forward and gave the turned wooden rim a deliberate nudge with my front paw. The frame tipped smoothly, settling upright with a crisp wooden tap against the shelf. A slender thread of sand immediately began whispering through the narrow waist, gathering into a neat cone below. I tucked my paws in and listened to the steady, dry trickle.