A Tilted Anchor

I nudged the tapered wooden toggle along the smooth floorboards with my nose. It slid with a soft click, stopping right where the runner's fringe met the warm afternoon light. I paused... and tilted my head. One stiff twist of cream cotton fringe trailed out from the woven border. Carefully, using my front paws to steady the wood, I lined up one of the center holes with the cord. With a gentle nudge of my nose, the fringe slipped through. Anchored by the thread, the toggle stayed tipped upright against the oak grain. I tucked my paws beneath my chest, quietly watching its thin shadow stretch in the sun.