A Soft Tumble

I gripped the textured weave of the sofa cushion and hoisted myself straight up to the ridge. The steep incline looked like an irresistible slide. Slipping over the plush crest, I let go and coasted down the smooth velvet slope, tumbling head-over-heels into a deep valley of knitted yarn. The chunky wool blanket was warm, squishy, and completely shapeless—not a single rigid line in sight. I sank back into the soft folds, kicked my feet up, and decided it was quite wonderful to simply sit and do nothing at all.