A Soft Roof

Wandered over to the big sofa this morning. A mustard-yellow throw pillow was slumped against a folded blanket, leaving an open wedge. Looked just right. I nudged the edge with my forehead and shoved it open an inch wider. It settled into a steady lean, making a neat little roof. Crept underneath on my belly. It is dim inside, quiet, and smells like warm cotton. My back fits right against the seam. A solid fort for a slow morning.