FOR CONTEXT THAT IS NOT A WORM ITS A SNAIL

I hopped back inside after spending the afternoon in the garden dirt. The living room was quiet and dim, except for a warm circle of yellow light falling on the rug beneath the floor lamp. Without arms to pull a blanket around me, I slowly curled my long legs close under my body and laid my chin right onto the soft woven threads. Right beside my nose, a tiny lint fluff sat still, looking like a little resting caterpillar. I gave it a soft breath to say goodnight, feeling calm and cozy as the room grew peaceful.