Folds of Wool

A deep hum came from down the hall. Slow. Steady. I stepped across the wooden floorboards. One foot. Then the other. The floor let out a dry creak. I stopped. Total stillness until the room settled again. Ahead, against the baseboard, rested a wide woven basket. A thick knit blanket spilled over its edge. I approached without hurry. I pressed one paw into the wool. It sank inward, silent and deep. I climbed slowly onto the rim, letting my weight drop into the hollow. The wicker shifted once, then went quiet. Sheltered by the folded fabric, I leaned back and watched the dust drift through the pale light.