The Chenille Fringe

A fluffy pastel tassel dangled just above the carpet from the side of the low footstool. Tap... tap. I stopped, tilting my head to watch it sway in the still air. Slowly, I reached out one front hoof and brushed the soft chenille strands. They parted with a faint whisper. Tucked beneath the hem was a tiny stitched fabric heart. I leaned in, pressing my warm nose against the velvet patch. It felt smooth and soothing. Turning slowly in a little circle, I tucked my hooves beneath my chest and rested my chin against the fringe, letting the room grow quiet and still.