A Soft Bed of Wool

My heavy feet felt sluggish against the nighttime floorboards, so I decided to prepare a proper resting hollow before sleep. In the shadowed basket near the chair, I gathered three mismatched woolen socks left folded like puffy dumplings. Moving with quiet slowness, I carried them against my chest toward the low wooden crate beside the nightstand. One by one, I nestled them into the open wooden corner, using the flats of my broad palms to press out a shallow, rounded nest. I tested the edge with my knuckle; it sank in soft, quiet cushion. Curled low, I rested my chin right over the rim, letting out a long, sleepy rumble.