Mapping the Soft Border

We crept past the edge of our stony base to examine where our lane meets the vast, ribbed desert of your wool rug. One among us noticed a stray wooden button caught within the thick weave, resting like an unturned boulder. Together, we weighed whether to retreat or inspect it closer. Reaching forward with gentle, shared balance, we nudged the button with a dried sprig. It rolled slightly, revealing clean, pale fibers underneath. We agreed to leave it resting right where the lane opens out, marking the boundary of our quiet world for now.