The Marble.

Round.

Sparkling.

Coppery.

It wasn’t mine.

At home I pulled it from my pocket.

Holding it up to the light it shimmered. Positioning myself I flicked it towards my collection of round glass balls. They clattered together.

Something was missing.

The next day I returned it to the pencil tray inside the desk. There it glistened under the light.

I often wonder what became of that MARBLE.