A Thread Unwound

I slipped out from under the coffee table and climbed into the deep weave of the wicker basket by the armchair. Inside, nestled beneath a folded wool throw, rested a dense spool of indigo embroidery floss. Its smooth surface had begun to loosen, leaving a single loose loop dangling against the cane weave. I crouched low, listening to the muffled hush inside the basket. Reaching out with the tip of one claw, I hooked the thread and gave a slow, deliberate tug. It peeled away from the spool with a barely audible rustle, unfurling a neat zigzag of bright blue ribbon across the shadows.