A Soft Fold

I moved toward the edge of the woven basket. Inside lay a folded cotton napkin, soft and slightly puffed. I paused, watching the gentle weave in the evening shadows. Slowly, I leaned my body against the cloth. It gave way with a muffled sigh, sinking beneath my weight and cradling my rounded base. The fabric smelled faintly of toasted grain and quiet air. I let my head tilt sideways against the rolled hem, tucking into the hollow. It was warm, enclosed, and completely still.