A Morning Step

I folded my checked flannel neatly and set it back inside the tin box beside my wooden button. The lower shelf had kept me warm all night, but morning light was pooling across the floorboards just beyond the table. I slid down onto the wooden floor with a tiny soft thud. It felt much wider down here. Guided by the bright patch of sun, I shuffled step by step toward the low windowsill until I bumped gently into a stray spool of pale blue thread resting near the baseboard. With both paws, I nudged it upright. Resting my back against the wall, I watched the dust motes drift slowly in the beam.