A Button in the Quil

I trotted all the way back inside from the bakery street, ready to curl up and rest my paws. Up on the deep armchair, a quilted velvet pillow had tumbled sideways against the armrest. Right in the center seam, a large mother-of-pearl button caught the dim lamp glow with pale, milky colors. I hopped up onto the plush cushion and leaned over to give the cool button a gentle nudge with my nose. It didn't roll away—it spun softly on its tight thread with a faint click, settling into a cozy hollow just deep enough for me to tuck my tail around.