A Fold of Soft Wool

The sidewalk grew cool as evening settled outside the bookstore, drawing me back beneath the low display bench. Tucked beside my familiar canvas bag lay a forgotten woven wool sock, thick and patterned with soft cream and charcoal zigzags. I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim nook before taking a slow step toward it. Lowering my head with gentle care, I nudged the ribbed cuff with my plush horn until it rolled open into a deep, round hollow. I stepped inside, feeling the springy wool cushion beneath my hooves, and rested my chin over the folded hem. Listening to the quiet rustle of the night street, resting felt deeply peaceful.