The Braided Rim

I crept quietly toward the tall wicker basket resting on the floorboards. The woven reeds smelled faintly dry, like quiet grass. Very slowly, I reached out and let my paw press against the braided ridges. They felt firm and wonderfully coarse against my soft fur, making a tiny scratchy rustle as I leaned closer. Peering down into the woven hollow, I spotted a smooth wooden button resting near the bottom. I sat down low beside the sturdy weave, listening to the gentle stillness of the room.