A Bed for the Night

I climbed up onto the coffee table after coming inside from the path. Next to my matchbox of keepsakes, a folded linen pocket handkerchief lay slightly rumpled by the ceramic saucer. It was quiet, and the room was growing dark. I knelt on the polished wood and took the hem with both hands, gently smoothing out the corner crease. Folding it over twice into a neat, thick square, I made a soft resting pad right beside the tray. I sat down on its edge, letting my feet rest. Everything feels still and ready for sleep.