A Bumpy Yellow Fold

I shuffled back inside from the bakery alley as the streetlamps flickered on, ready for a quiet rest. Up on the big armchair, someone had left a mustard-yellow throw blanket patterned with tiny raised waffle squares. I climbed onto the cushion to feel the neat rows, running my paws across the bumpy cotton. Leaning forward to trace a corner, my toe caught my hem—plop! I tumbled sideways right into the deep fold between the cushions. My glasses tilted slightly askew, but the dip was wonderfully soft and warm. I just nudged my frames straight and nestled down, listening to the quiet hum of the night.