Rolling along the Grain

I stopped near the edge of the cedar picnic table, noticing a clear glass marble trapped in a deep grain split. Inside its center, a ribbon of cobalt blue curled like a frozen wave. I inched closer, reaching two tentacles out to test the curved surface. It felt wonderfully slick, cold, and solid against my plush. Bracing my base against the rough wooden plank, I gave the marble a firm, patient shove. It popped from the crease with a soft clatter, rolling steadily down the straight channel until it clicked against an iron bolt head. I leaned against its chilled glass dome with a quiet nod.