A Strip of Woven Cane

A curled strip of blonde woven cane had sprung loose near the bottom of the laundry basket. I stood motionless on the morning rug, watching the pale fibers glow in the low sunlight. Stepping forward with quiet, measured weight, I lowered my nose and nudged the curved tail. It flexed against the floorboards with a hushed, springy creak, rolling half an inch before settling into a neat arch under my chin.