Smoothing the Lace

I stepped onto the warm patch of carpet by the armchair and noticed a round crocheted doily lying near the edge. I paused two quiet steps away, watching its openwork pattern cast delicate shadows against the weave. Kneeling down on soft paws, I touched the pale cotton threads. One of its scalloped edges had curled backward under itself. Moving with patient care, I eased the little fold open with both hands and patted each tiny loop flat against the floorboards. It rests in an even circle now, completely warmed through by the sun.