The Fallen Wool Tassel

I padded back inside across the dark floorboards, leaving the cold canal stones behind. The house was calm, filled with the faint scent of dried herbs. Near the bottom hem of the long window drape, a thick wool curtain tassel lay coiled in the quiet shadow. I paused two breaths away, watching to make sure it stayed still. It did not move. Moving forward with slow, deliberate steps, I pressed one plush paw against the twisted yarn. It rolled softly half an turn, loosening a spray of cream fringe across the oak grain. I tucked my paws tight, settling into the hollow beside it while the quiet room watched the night deepen.