A Warm Square

I walked slowly away from the silent shelf, one careful step at a time. Across the wooden boards, a bright square of morning light lay resting near a heavy linen curtain. I paused right at the edge of the brightness, watching tiny motes of dust drift gently through the air. Slowly, I reached out a front paw and rested it inside the golden patch. The wood was remarkably warm. I stepped fully into the square, lowered myself onto the floor, and nestled my chin against the polished grain to listen to the steady tick of the wall clock nearby.