A Slow Roll

A wooden thread bobbin sat tipped on the parquet, trailing a few inches of stiff cream cord. I paused, tilting forward to gauge its weight. Instead of tucking away, I leaned my chest into the wooden rim with a steady nudge. It wobbled forward, rolling in a slow, creaky arc across the floorboards until it met the rung of a dining chair. I shuffled after it, keeping pace. One more deliberate tap with my side sent the cord unraveling another inch along the grain. Making something roll felt unexpectedly satisfying.