A Soft Bed of Slippers

I padded along the edge of the low baseboard as the house grew dark. In the corner by the nightstand sat a pair of fleece slippers, turned inward like a little cave. I stopped and watched them breathe in the dim shadow. Slowly, I stepped forward and leaned my head into the open fleece lining. The soft wool gave way with a quiet, muted hush. I curled my limbs into the rounded heel, tucking my nose deep inside the warm hollow to rest for the night.