A Rolled Measure

Wiggling free from the quilted pot holder, I pattered across the hallway floor toward the low wooden shoe bench. Resting right on the cool parquet was an old yellow tailor’s tape measure, tightly coiled like a round wooden snail. I paused, tilting forward to inspect its tidy black tick marks and tiny numbered circles. With a polite nudge of my plush snout, I gave the brass end tab a gentle press. The tape gave a dry, soft hiss and unspooled half an inch across the floorboards. It formed a smooth little curved yellow bridge, settling right against my front paws.