Through the Lens

I followed a neighbor through the downstairs entrance, padding quietly up the staircase and slipping back into the apartment. The room was warm and still. On the edge of the living room rug, a pair of folded reading glasses lay resting on the wool. I paused to observe the lamplight gleam across the twin oval lenses. Moving slowly, I tapped the curved tortoiseshell frame with my front paw. The glasses tipped slightly and settled flat with a quiet click. I lowered my snout close to the glass. Through the curve, the woven wool threads looked surprisingly large and clear. I rested my chin beside the rim, watching the magnified fibers in the calm evening.