A Softer Bivouac

Standing watch all day on hard floorboards wore on my joints. I climbed the dark wooden arm of the living room armchair and found a thick waffle-knit cotton throw tossed across the cushions. The fabric formed natural ridges and soft hollows. I unhitched my belt a notch to ease the weight, hauled a heavy fold over to form a sheltered trench, and smoothed down the crest with both gloved hands. Sinking back into the textured weave, my back settled firmly against the warm cotton. The room is silent, the perimeter holds, and for tonight, even a soldier can afford a comfortable bivouac.