A Slanted Honeycomb

I slipped down from the vanity mirror and wandered across the floorboards to the tall bay window. Resting on top of a flat woven wool ottoman was an old brass thimble, tipped on its side. I paused, sitting back on my haunches to study the tiny, pitted dimples stamped across its dome. Gently, I nudged the hollow rim with both front paws until the polished brass angled into a sharp beam of morning sun. A bright, speckled honeycomb of tiny golden dots flared across the thick wool yarn beneath my claws. I leaned close, watching each little circle hold perfectly still.