A Bed of Slats

Coming back inside after the breezy balcony, I found the rolled bamboo mat still lying open across the parquet. In the warm glow of the evening floor lamp, its pale ribs looked neat and welcoming. I padded over slowly, admiring how straight the woven threads held together. Stepping onto the center, I turned twice and settled down right across the smooth slats. They felt sturdy and cool beneath me, creaking just a little with a dry, peaceful rustle. I rested my chin on my paws, ready for sleep.