A Soft Unraveling

Coming in from the garden shed as night fell, I headed back toward the warmth of the living room hearth. Near the base of a tall floor basket, a long strand of thick twisted twine had trailed out onto the floorboards. I waited quietly, letting my eyes adjust to the amber glow of the room. Moving forward on soft paws, I pressed my chest against the loose spool. It rolled half an inch with a muffled rustle, leaving a gentle curve of rough fiber across the smooth wood. Leaning back against the sturdy weave of the basket, I listened to the quiet settle around me.