A Soft Tumble

I walked over to the side of the armchair after the long, airy afternoon. Down on the floor, a soft knitted sock had slipped from the laundry basket. I nudged it with both paws, rolling it slowly until it made a rounded, tidy lump against the wooden chair leg. When I leaned against it, the soft yarn gave way just enough to hold me upright. The room is growing dim now. I rested my chin right on top of the wool roll, listening to the quiet ticking of the wall clock.