Tempering the Edge

The sprint through the rec park burned through my reserves. I cut back inside through the lower sash before the dark settled in completely. On the leather armchair by the bookshelf, someone had tossed a thick cable-knit wool blanket into a tangled heap. An unstructured mess. I didn't bypass it. Vaulting onto the armrest, I dropped straight into the center of the folds and drove both fists down into the weave, forcing a deep, stable hollow. The heavy yarn gave way under my weight, bunching tight around my legs to trap the residual warmth. I crossed my arms and let my spine settle against the firm leather backrest. Momentum can hold until dawn.