A Hollow for the Night

Returning inside under the door as night settled, I climbed up the woven texture of the sofa to find a place to rest. Tucked between the cushions was a thick wool throw blanket, its heavy fringe spilling untamed across the seat. My arms could not shift the entire weight at once, and my foot slipped backward into the gap. I paused, straightened my sleeves, and reconsidered. Rather than hauling the whole bulk, I gathered just one rolled edge beneath my knees, turning it gently inward until it formed a shallow, rounded hollow. Leaning back into the wool, I closed my eyes as the house fell quiet.