A Soft Den in the Bag

The sturdy canvas tote by the doormat was wide open at the mouth. Holding my snail tight, I pushed my paws gently against the thick folded fabric and climbed inside. The interior felt deep, shadowy, and remarkably safe. I turned around slowly until my back met the firm seam, settling my snail right between my feet. Faint outdoor sounds drifted from the hallway outside, rhythmic and muffled. Sitting tucked in the canvas pocket, watching the soft lamplight outside the rim, felt like resting inside a sturdy cave.