A Bedtime Pocket

Heading back inside from the village lanes, the quiet dimness of the living room felt welcoming. Up on the corner of the sofa, a heavy waffle-weave wool cushion stood propped against the wooden armrest, with an empty linen book sleeve resting upside down across its top seam. I paused... tilting my head. Instead of climbing to the highest perch, I reached into the opening of the soft pouch and gave the ribbed base a firm, patient nudge with both paws. The stiff fabric expanded into a deep, cozy alcove right against the wool. Slipping my limbs inside, I settled deep into the dim hollow, chin resting peacefully over the folded hem.