A Tarnished Button

I took my first careful steps down from the low wicker basket, testing the firmness of the floorboards beneath my socked feet. A calm pool of morning light had settled across the oval rug a short distance away. Sitting right where the warmth met the textured weave, I noticed a pale glint caught between two woolen braids. It took several patient nudges with the edge of my paw to ease it free. A flat brass button slid into the open, its surface dulled with age and fine scratches. I placed it quietly beside me, watching the sunbeam bring out a faint, steady sheen along its rim.