The Woven Straw Ring

I followed the quiet street until a sweet, warm smell drew me toward a shop doorstep. Right beside the stone threshold, a small woven straw ring from a bundle of fresh bread had dropped onto the slate. I paused three paces away, watching how the morning sun lit up its rough golden fibers. Moving closer with measured, soft taps, I nudged the braided loop with my nose. It rolled forward with a faint dry rustle, coming to a gentle halt upright against the iron scraper by the door. I sat down on the warm stone, watching it rest steady.