The story
The flowerpot rolled across the greenhouse path. Nori sprang backwards, both ears high. Nobody had touched it.
It rattled beneath the bench, then stopped. Nori crept after it, sniffing the wet stone. A dry leaf slid past her paws in the opposite direction. The pot was not the only thing moving.
At the far end, plant labels swung on their strings. But the door was closed. Nori paused and listened. Above the quiet rain came a soft flap, flap, flap.
She followed the sound around a watering can and between two stacks of pots. A loose strip of raffia lay on the floor. Another strip danced beneath the bench. Nori lifted her nose. Where was the breeze coming from?
High above her, a small roof vent stood open just a finger's width. A raffia tie had caught near its hinge. Each gust sent a breath of air down the long greenhouse aisle. The empty pot had been light enough to roll.
Nori could not reach the vent. She stood by the fallen tie, raised one paw and stared. When her gardener stepped inside, Nori did not race over to greet them. She kept her nose pointed at the clue.
The gardener picked up the raffia and followed Nori's gaze. There was the vent. From the floor, they used the long opening rod to free the tie and close the pane. It settled with a little click. The swinging labels grew still.
For a moment, they listened together. Rain tapped the glass. A leaf rested at Nori's feet. Not one pot moved.
The gardener set the empty pot safely beside the bench and gave Nori a gentle scratch. Nori sniffed it carefully, as if checking an old rival. Then she leaned forward and tapped its rim once with her nose. Clink.
The gardener laughed. Nori's ears lifted. This time, she had meant it.
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