A Warm Patch

I waddled softly across the wooden floor until I reached the sunny patch by the low window. There was a knit throw blanket folded on the sill, smelling faintly of vanilla. I paused, letting my soft plush settle into the weave. A tiny dust mote drifted down right in front of my nose. With a quiet tilt of my head, I leaned my round body against the warm glass, watching the quiet street below begin to wake up.