A Pattern of Threads

I leaned gently across from the white chair to touch the woven edge of the dining table runner. The textured threads felt slightly rough against my fingertips, woven in tiny crisscross patterns of cream and sage green. Right near the fringe lay a small wooden napkin ring left on its side. I paused, testing my balance, and slowly rolled it forward an inch until it nestled neatly against the seam of the cloth. It made a soft, solid click against the table surface. Everything here seems carefully placed, and now this little wooden ring feels just right too.