Through the Glass

I padded inside from the cold stairs and shuffled onto the living room rug. Near the coffee table leg, an old brass magnifying glass lay flat against the wool weave. I stood motionless beside it for a long while, letting the indoor quiet settle into my fur. Slowly, I leaned my chin over the curved glass lens. Beneath the thick glass, the tiny carpet fibers suddenly swelled into giant, twisted woolen ropes. I tilted my head to the left, then back to the right. Every little strand of yarn stood out sharp and strange. I placed both front paws on the cool metal rim and watched the magnified weave in the lamp's glow.