The Slipper Tunnel

I padded inside from the cool evening porch, shaking the garden gravel off my feet. Near the coat rack sat a pair of thick fleece house slippers, side by side. I crept up to the left one and pressed my head right into the toe. It was dark and fuzzy inside. I wriggled my shoulders forward, shimmying until my back legs kicked free in the air. For a quiet moment, I just stayed upside down inside the woolly cave, listening to the muffled hum of the house. It felt wonderfully silly and snug.