A Scratchy Pull

I backed out from the warm wool toe of the slipper, stepping onto the cool hallway floorboards. Leaning against the bench leg, an umbrella rested low, its black nylon strap dangling down to the grain. At the end of the ribbon was a tiny patch of bristly hook-and-loop tape, half-stuck to its fuzzy mate. I paused... holding my raspy breath, listening hard to the morning silence. Inching closer, I pinched the stiff tab with both plush paws. With a steady, hesitant heave, I peeled the hooks free. It yielded with a crisp, scratchy rip that made my seams tense. I froze, waiting... but nothing stirred, only the uncurled strap swaying gently against my knuckles.