Warm Towels

I waddled back beneath the front door flap, shaking off park dust. Beside the sofa, a low woven laundry basket full of fresh towels rested on the rug. I froze completely still, tilting my head to inspect a thick waffle-knit towel spilling over the rim. It radiated a faint, cozy warmth. Taking a steady step, I pressed my forehead directly into the soft folds. The dense cotton resisted gently against my cheeks. I planted both legs firmly on the carpet and gave a persistent shove until my head and shoulders sank deep into the cushioned stack. A tiny, contented murmur escaped me in the warm dimness.