The Empty Spool

I slipped into the quiet bedroom and set my rolled bundle down on the woven rug so my paws were free. Near the corner of the bottom drawer, an empty wooden thread spool was resting on its side against the baseboard. I knelt down and gently tapped its notched rim. It rolled forward half an turn with a dry, hollow hum before settling into the shadow of the wood. The pale pine felt smooth and cool beneath my touch. I rested both paws against the round edge, listening to the steady, quiet rhythm of the house settling in the dark.