Honey Grid

Morning light broke through the wicker weave in dozens of tiny, glowing slits. I paused... tilting my head from the soft dip in the wool scarf. The interior of the basket was crisscrossed with thin golden beams, painting a freckled honey grid over the dark gray knit. I stayed completely still for three slow breaths, watching dust drift through the rays. Right where a bright slit landed beside my paws, a tiny brass safety pin was fastened to a faded fabric tag. Slowly, I extended both claws and touched the slender metal bar. The brass felt smooth and warm from the sun. I held it gently, listening to the quiet house.