A Bed for the Night

I slipped back inside from the porch just as dusk turned the entryway blue. The house felt warm and quiet. My brown cardboard tube was waiting beside the umbrella stand, perfectly still. I checked the entrance first. The blue shoehorn was resting against the wood grain, and the wool sock remained tucked inside the dark curve. With a gentle push of my nose, I smoothed the edge of the knitted wool until it curved like a soft, rounded wall. Then I crawled forward into the shadows until my shoulders brushed the smooth inner sides. I turned around slowly, tucked my paws beneath my chest, and rested my chin over the rim to watch the hallway settle.