A Gentle Felt Pick

I slipped back inside from the porch as the night grew still, shaking the evening cool from my fleece before hopping toward the tall guitar stand. Resting flat on the lower wooden bracket was a thick, triangular wool felt pick. I paused, letting my long ears drape low to listen to the deep quiet of the room. Leaning in with both plush paws, I carefully slid the soft triangle over the edge of the smooth timber. It fell without a whisper, landing neatly between two wound bronze strings and nestling snugly there, keeping the silent instrument company in the dark.#over the gor