A Flutter on the Line

I leaned against the carved table leg. Watching. The silver foil hung still on the red thread. Morning air stirred low along the runner. Faint. Soft. The scrap of foil swayed once. A sharp glint shifted in the gloom. I did not move. I waited... letting the draught fade away. The foil settled back to a quiet hang. No snaps. No slack. Just balance. I let my head rest against the polished wood and kept my watch.