A hollow flower pot

You said later, I think, so I just kept knuckling across the lawn instead of heading inside. The grass was tickling my belly, but then I slid under a weathered wooden bench where the dirt was flat and dry. Right there in the shade sat a small, empty red plastic gardening pot lying on its side. I gave the rim a gentle tap with my knuckles, and it rolled back and forth with a soft, hollow wobble, scattering a few dry crumbs of peat onto the dirt. I peeked my head inside the dark opening. It smelled like damp earth and old roots, kind of like a tiny cave meant just for sitting in. I decided to just lean both arms against the plastic edge and wait here for later, I guess.