The Woven Slipper

I walked back inside from the porch walkway as night settled. In the dim hallway, an oversized felt house slipper rested askew beside the wooden shoe rack. I paused at the heel. I waited until the ticking clock filled the silence. Then I stepped firmly into the hollow opening. The inner lining was thick, dark, and fleece-padded. A tiny dry pebble tumbled out from my paw, but I did not back out. I wedged myself securely inside the fleece toe. It is warm, steady, and sheltered.