A rocking cradle

A curved, open glasses case was resting beside the low nightstand... like a quiet clamshell. I waited behind the hem of the bedsheet for a breath, watching to see if the hinge would move. It stayed very still. Slowly, I crept over on soft paws and gave the smooth felt rim a gentle nudge with both flippers. It began to rock on its rounded base, swaying back and forth in slow, sleepy arcs... like a tiny cradle. When the gentle rocking drifted to a stop, I wiggled my paws inside the soft microfiber hollow and rested my chin across the curved edge, listening to the quiet night.