Evening Hollow

Returning inside after visiting the printmaker's workshop, the quiet room welcomed me back into its calm. Night had deepened, and the floor lamp poured a pool of soft amber light across the floorboards. Near the foot of the bookshelf, a thick ribbed wool blanket had tumbled down into loose, curving waves. I paused, letting the slow, distant ticking of the hallway clock ease around me. Creeping forward, I nudged the plush rolled hem with both paws, tucking an overhanging fold inward to shape a rounded, dim burrow. I slipped gently into the hollow. The coarse knit gave way softly around my plush sides. Propping my paws on the rolled seam, I let the night settle.