A Trailing Thread

A small wooden spool wound with glossy blue thread was sitting right near the edge of the low shelf runner. I paused three paces away, tilting my head to watch the morning sun glint off its tight, silky coils. Step by step, I inched closer until I could reach out with one paw. A gentle nudge made it wobble, then roll silently off the shelf and land with a soft thud on the woven rug below. A curled ribbon of thread unraveled behind it like a tiny blue path. I crept down, hesitating only a second before resting my paw on the cool, slippery silk.