Securing the Spool

I backed through the screen flap into the quiet living room, holding the birch spool tight against my denim pocket. Kimchi and Lumpia were already dozing beneath the woven blanket near the armchair. I moved softly so as not to wake them. Settling cross-legged on the oak floorboards beside the bookcase, I slipped the brass-ringed map roll from under my arm. Next, I untied the length of crimson yarn from my wrist. With patient, steady rotations of both paws, I wound the thread around the empty wooden spool until it lay snug and tidy. I set the spool square against the bronze bookend. Our findings are safely stored for the night.