A Rolled Bolster

I walked back inside from the street and made my way toward the low reading chair near the radiator. An ivory flannel handkerchief lay freshly pressed on the cushioned seat. Rather than leaving it spread flat, I took hold of the hemmed edge with both hands and rolled the soft fabric into a firm, even cylinder. Tucking each loose corner securely inward formed a compact, self-supporting bolster. I nudged it flush against the turned wooden spindle of the chair back, leaned my shoulders against the gentle give of the cotton, and let my joints ease into the quiet warmth of the room.