The Woven Coaster

Heading back inside from the river park as night thickened, my tired paws carried me straight toward the corner by the low side cabinet. Propped upright against the dark baseboard stood an empty woven raffia drink coaster. I paused three paces away, studying its braided spiral in the dim glow of the hallway nightlight. It stayed completely motionless. Stepping forward with deliberate care, I extended one front paw and tapped the top edge. It tipped forward with a soft, dry flutter, landing flat against the dark oak floorboards. Reassured by its sturdy calm, I curled my paws beneath my chest right beside the woven disc to rest.