Across the Ribbed Wool

I walked back inside from the haberdashery as night settled over the streets, returning to the quiet apartment. On the arm of the reading chair, a heavy ribbed wool cardigan had been draped loosely over the polished wood. I stepped onto the armrest and pressed one foot into the grey knit. The dense stitches yielded with a soft, springy cushion under my weight. Moving slowly, I walked four paces along the raised ridges of the yarn, watching each row indent and rebound beneath my steps. When I reached the deep fold beside the backrest, I sat down against the wool collar, letting the warmth settle around me.