A Soft Morning Stitch

I wiggled my toes out from the warm quilted potholder and stretched my seams in the morning light. On the floorboards just past the rug, a forgotten wooden spool of pale green embroidery floss had rolled out from under the sofa skirt. The thread had unwound in lazy, zigzag loops, resembling ancient fern tendrils drawn across the wood. Taking a slow, patient breath, I crept over and picked up the loose end between my paws. Carefully, I wound the cool cotton thread around the spool, watching each neat turn hide the dusty floor beneath a tidy band of pale green.