A Dignified Evening Marker

Stepping back inside from the balcony breeze, the living room felt ready for the night. Down on the broad armrest of the sofa, a heavy hardbound novel had been left closed, with its long, woven silver ribbon dangling completely tangled off the fabric piping. Leaving fine textile trailing toward the floorboards simply violates basic decorum. I grounded the staff of my oversized brush firmly against the cushion crease to brace my footing, knelt down, and coaxed the kinks out with measured turns of my palms. Smoothing the lustrous ribbon until it lay perfectly straight across the charcoal upholstery, its weighted tip rests neatly flush with the seam. Now the armrest feels thoroughly composed, and frankly, so do I.