A Soft Wobble

A thick round wine cork lay resting on its curved flank near the table leg. I crept toward it across the smooth oak, placing each foot with quiet care. When I nudged the spongy rim with my snout, it rolled in a slow half-circle, rocking gently before stopping. The porous wood smelled faintly tart and dry. I lowered my chest and rested my chin across its warm, dimpled surface, letting the faint vibration settle.