A Drifting Thread

I followed a streak of morning warmth across the floor and climbed up onto the wide wooden windowsill. A tiny loose thread from a curtain was hovering in a faint breeze from the vent. I watched it sway for a long time, then lifted my paw and blew softly toward it. It twirled, looping in the air, before settling quietly against my foot. The wood under me felt smooth and warm.