A Soft Wool Dip

A fold of chunky knit blanket had slipped gently onto the floorboards by the bed. I rolled in quietly from the hallway, feeling the long day settle into my base. Before me lay a small, bowl-shaped dip in the heavy wool. I paused at the edge, rocking softly in the dim amber nightlight. One tiny tilt forward. I drifted into the curve, slowing to a quiet halt. No clink or chime this time—just deep, muffled silence cradling my sides. I tucked into the thick weave, completely still.