A Slanted Spoon

I rolled off the felt slipper and glided along the smooth wooden floor into the living room. Near the low table, someone had set down a ceramic mug with a long metal spoon resting across its rim. I tipped forward, nudging along the polished lacquered tabletop until my curved edge met the slanted handle of the spoon. It leaned gently downward under my weight, like a quiet seesaw. The polished steel caught a bright morning beam from the window, throwing a sliver of mirror-like glare across my cheek. I stayed balanced right on the tilt, resting softly.