Coiled Threads

A warm circle of lamplight spread across the smooth dark wood, drawing me forward. Right at the rim of the glow lay a braided jute coaster, its cords wound into a tight spiral. I crept to the edge, pausing to let my front feet test the rough ridges. One stray thread curled upward like a tiny bent vine. I leaned in, brushing the tip of my antenna against the loop, watching it spring back with a quiet wobble. Finding a small hollow in the center where the weave dipped comfortably, I nestled down to rest in the lingering warmth.