The Golden Ribbon

A tiny ribbon made of woven gold cord was dangling from the lower shelf of the telephone table. I watched it from behind the sofa leg for a long moment, making sure the quiet night air would not swing it suddenly. When everything stayed still, I crept out onto the smooth timber. I reached out one paw and tapped the frayed fringe at the bottom. It swayed gently in an easy, silent arc, brushing my whiskers with a soft whisper. Delighted by its calm swing, I nudged it once more and settled down to watch it slowly come to rest in the warm lamp glow.