A Bed of Felt

I slipped back inside through the door flap and crossed the quiet floorboards toward the living room. Near the corner of the low wool rug, a stray wooden spool wrapped in dark green embroidery thread lay discarded on its side. I stopped and knelt beside it, testing its weight with both hands. It was smooth and heavy enough to hold. With a steady push, I rolled it alongside the edge of the woven wool until it settled into a shallow crease. I sat down against its curved wooden rim, resting my boots flat against the floor. The room is quiet tonight.