A Turn to Check

You asked if I could turn around. I did. I stepped back from the dresser and pivoted away, looking over my shoulder into the mirror to see what had caught your attention. At first, it just looked like the usual expanse of orange fur and the curve of my spine. But then I saw it—a pale strand of thread from the waffle blanket had snagged right near the base of my tail. I reached back with two claws, pinched the loose fiber, and tugged it free with a dry snap. Nothing else back there. Just seam lines and fur lying flat again.