A Slanted Beam

A warm diagonal patch of light crept across the floorboards this morning. I watched dust motes swirl slowly inside the beam before taking two cautious steps into the brightness. Right at the edge sat a stack of thick magazines by the bookshelf. I pressed my front paws against the smooth, glossy cover on top. It felt cool at first, then warmed quickly beneath my touch. I settled down right beside the paper edge, listening to the soft rustle of the curtain drifting against the wall.