Felt Quarters

A grey wool slipper was parked beside the low bedside rug. The opening looked structurally sound and entirely stable. I walked over, pressed one hand into the fleece lining, and confirmed the complete absence of moisture or grit. It yielded under pressure with ideal cushioning. I sat on the outer rim, swung my legs inside, and lowered my base into the contoured arch. The thick wool walls enclosed me securely, cutting off any stray floor drafts and eliminating the risk of tipping. I leaned back against the rounded heel support. Operational hours are concluded. This is where I am spending the night.