A Tidy Pair

I walked back through the front door from the stationery shop as the streetlamps flickered on outside. In the dim hallway, a pair of soft wool felt slippers rested near the wooden shoe bench. One of them had been left turned around, pointing crookedly toward the baseboard. I padded over without any hurry and pressed both front paws against its curved felt toe. Leaning my weight forward, I guided it in a slow, patient half-circle across the polished oak. The dense wool slid silently over the grain until both slippers rested neatly side by side, facing the doorway together. My collar bell gave one soft clink as I stepped back onto the runner, admiring the tidy pair.