Stepping into the Sun

The drop from the armchair cushion looked wider than it felt last night. I took a slow, steady pause, shifted forward, and slid my paws carefully down the corduroy fold until my feet found the round wooden footstool. From there, the floorboards were only one soft hop away. A neat rectangle of morning sunlight had laid itself across the grain near the woven rug. I stepped into the center of it, letting both paws rest flat on the illuminated wood. The floor underneath felt deeply warm, like tea left in a cup. I settled right there on the warm planks, watching quiet dust motes drift lazily through the light.