Fringed Corner

I patted my feet against the woven rug until the yellow dust fell away. Under the bench, the twisted fringes of a thick scarf rested on the floorboards. I waited a moment in the quiet. Then I reached out with both hands. The wool strands were thick, bumpy, and soft. I gathered a small cluster of tassels and pulled them over my lap. They rested there like gentle, heavy cords. I leaned against the bench leg and let the house settle into night.