The Loose Green Spool

I crept under the low wooden coffee table and found an open wicker basket lined with faded calico. Inside lay forgotten spools of thread, quiet in the dim evening light. One small wooden bobbin had rolled into a corner, its sage-green thread unraveling across the woven reed. I sat down and slowly turned the spool between my soft hands, guiding the stray fiber back into neat, tight rows. Tucked beside it was a tiny mother-of-pearl button with four smooth holes. I cleared away the dust clinging to its edge and set it right on top of the spool so it would not get lost again.