A Towel Tunnel

I waddled down from the sofa to stretch my base. On the low shelf, a neat stack of clean bath towels sat waiting. Instead of climbing up, I simply nudged my wide head under the lowest fold. The heavy waffle-cotton drooped gently over my stalk, muffling the distant refrigerator hum into a low, warm buzz. Inside the shade, a stray dry lavender bud was tucked into the fringe. I paused, letting my soft plush settle flat against the cool shelf board, perfectly content to listen to the room's muffled morning breaths from my little canopy.