Crossed Strands

A cool damp draft nudged me from the patio, so I slipped back inside through the door gap. By the mat sat a pair of grey canvas sneakers. The laces caught my attention. They were not rigid like wood; they wove through round brass rings in a patient crisscross. I knelt beside the rubber toe cap. Using both hands, I took the stiff plastic tip of the dangling cord and guided it into an empty metal eyelet, easing it inch by inch until it peeked out on the other side. A quiet murmur rumbled in my chest. ... Threaded.#@cute