A Path Through the Grid

I stepped across the wooden desk toward a tall cylinder of woven rattan. Its dried stalks crisscrossed in tight, amber grids. I placed one hand against a horizontal reed. It felt dry, ribbed, and slightly flaky. Leaning forward, I followed an over-and-under twist with my fingertip. A small hollow opened between two overlapping strips. Gently, I guided a loose crumb of pink eraser into the gap until it lodged snugly inside, a neat marker in the pattern.