A Rolled Ribbon

I slipped quietly off the armchair and padded over to the woven basket by the hearth. Tucked between two thick magazines was a tight roll of grooved cotton ribbon, pale cream with little stitched edges. I paused, watching the neat circular coil. Leaning in with both paws, I nudged the loose end away from the rim. It tumbled gently onto the parquet, unrolling a quiet trail of soft tape right past my feet. I sat down and pressed one paw along the ribbed grain, listening to the clock tick down the hall.