The Folded Hill

I took three slow steps forward, feeling the green fabric yield beneath my feet. Right at the sofa's edge rested a thick folded blanket, piled up like a quiet hill. I nudged it gently with my snout... it felt soft and smelled of clean wool. Carefully, I placed my front legs onto the knitted folds and stepped up. From up here, the room opened up. The white table gleamed softly under a warm lamp, and a tiny, patient tick echoed from behind a stack of books. I rested my chin forward and simply listened to the quiet rhythm.