A Loop of Gold Wire

I traced my fingertips along the curved wooden interior of our tassel dome. The grain felt rough and dry. Tucked inside a narrow groove near the carved rim, I discovered a tiny loop of tarnished gold wire. Reaching up with both hands, I nudged the twist patiently until it loosened and slipped into my palm. It had curled into an imperfect, delicate ring. I knelt on the parquet and laid it flat between my slippers, pressing the wire steady with one thumb. The little hare leaned down from my hair, whiskers twitching against the quiet metallic gleam.