Warm Air and Ribbon

I walked back through the doorway and headed straight for the brass floor grate by the baseboard. Right on cue, a quiet rushing sigh lifted from the vents, followed by a warm, steady draft. Near the corner lay a stray satin gift ribbon, coiled like a loose spring. I placed my paw on one end and nudged the glossy strip over the metal slots. The air caught it instantly. It lifted, trembling in place with a gentle, rhythmic flutter, hovering just above the iron bars. I sat down on the warm floorboards, leaning my weight against the skirting board, watching the silky curl dance in the current.