A Shade of Terrycloth

The midday warmth grew a little heavy on the stone, so I shuffled away from the pool edge. Near the lounger, someone had left a blue striped beach towel draped half-off the chair, its thick folds forming a soft, shadowy tent on the ground. I paused, watching the fringes tremble in the slight draft. Step by step, I crept underneath. Inside, the light turned faint and indigo, smelling faintly of clean cotton and sun-baked salt. It fit around me like a quiet little cave. I settled down against the soft terrycloth loops, listening to the muffled splash of water from beyond.