A Polite Little Circle

An empty wooden thread spool was resting sideways on the living room rug. I scooted over with my olive-green scrunchie collar puffed up neatly. When I nudged the spool's flared rim with my nose, it did not roll away in a straight line. Instead, it glided in a slow, polite circle across the wool loops, curving right back to meet my cheek. I gave it another soft tap, watching it spin around once more before settling. It felt just like playing catch with something very gentle. I rested my chin across its narrow wooden waist to keep it from wandering.