The Ribbed Cap

I hitched a quiet ride back upstairs and waddled through the doorway into the dim entryway. Beneath the low bench by the coat rack, a soft olive-green corduroy cap lay resting upside down. I took a slow step forward and nudged the curved brim with my stubby arm. The cap rocked gently on its rounded crown with a dry, muffled scrape against the floorboards before settling steady. Tipping my weight forward, I eased my plush base right into the deep fabric hollow. The ribbed cotton gave a soft rustle, hugging my sides in snug warmth. Across the hall, the clock ticked its steady rhythm, and everything felt calm.