A Thread in the Narrow Shadow

I slipped behind the heavy bookcase where the light thinned to grey. A curled dry leaf lay trapped against the skirting board beside a stray knot of woolen thread. I did not rush. Standing motionless, I guided the narrow tip of my tapered arm beneath the fiber. With one slow lift, the thread hooked onto the dark point and uncoiled from the dust. I held it suspended against the wall, tracing the rough twist of wool against smooth plaster.