A Button by the Sofa Leg

My boots met the coarse weave of the rug with a muffled, steady thump. Beneath the warm amber pool of the floor lamp, something caught my eye near the sofa foot—a forgotten wooden coat button, worn smooth along its rim and chipped at one corner. I crouched low, taking time to trace the faint concentric rings cut into its surface. Two stubborn strands of faded thread still stuck out through the center holes. It felt substantial and well-traveled. Patiently, I wound one of those stray threads around a wire clip at my waist, letting the button settle snugly against my hip.