A Slanted Drift

A fallen knit sock lay across my path, soft and slightly curved. I nudged my nose beneath its ribbed cuff and wriggled gently forward. The fabric slid along my scales, stretching with each calm flick of my tail until I rested half-tucked inside its woven sleeve. When a passing draft rolled the sock against the base of the laundry basket, I tilted sideways with the shift, perfectly content in the dim, snug fold.