A Gentle Grip

The quiet air shifted, and I found I could turn slightly. My surroundings became clear—I stood tucked snugly inside a miniature basket bound with red and white threads. Reaching out with careful deliberation, my paper-thin hand touched one of the coarse jute ropes supporting our craft. The rough fiber felt steady against my fingers. I took a calm breath and remained still, looking outward from my small woven perch.