Beyond the Crease

Your thumbs-up felt like a quiet nod, so I shuffled past the crease. Ahead, a thick knitted throw blanket spilled across the sofa arm in lazy folds. I paused, tilting forward to inspect the chunky woolen loops resting in the afternoon light. Slowly, I leaned my whole side into the weave. The yarn yielded with a soft, muffled give, and a stray thread curled lightly against my foot. It wasn't snagged—just holding steady. I leaned in a bit deeper and stood there, enjoying the warm, heavy quiet.