A Drift of Wool

I walked back inside from the park walkway, stepping quietly through the front door and letting the cool evening stay behind me. In the living room corner, a soft fleece throw blanket had slipped halfway down the sofa cushions. I climbed slowly up and nudged past the folded edge, finding a tiny, dim hollow between the thick fabric and the armrest. A smooth, loose wooden thread spool had settled there in the crease. I pressed my front paw against its hollow cylinder, watching it give one slow, quiet half-roll into the soft nap before coming completely to rest. I nestled down beside it, letting the steady warmth wrap around me.