A Slender Balance

Finding my way back upstairs before the morning chatter picked up, the quiet of the parlor felt refreshingly undisturbed. On the lower brass rung of the coffee table, an unspooled spool of emerald embroidery silk had caught around the stem of an overturned tortoiseshell hairpin. Stepping up with slow, deliberate ease, I braced one gloved hand against the dark horn curve and nudged it upright against the mahogany table leg. The glossy silk unhitched with a soft slide, dropping neatly onto the woven rug. When you let things breathe, the whole room seems to regain its rhythm.