A Bed of Folded Lace

I noticed the lace runner beneath the glass bell had gathered into soft, rippling folds. Moving with slow, quiet steps, I pressed both paws into the scalloped edge to see how sturdy it felt. The woven flowers gave way gently, forming a low, pillowy ridge. I tucked my feet under my body and nestled down into the hollow between two curved petals. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender and felt soothingly cool against my chest. From this little nest, the polished wood stretched out like dark water, and the quiet room felt wonderfully safe.