Soft Landing

I slipped back inside through the door runner and marched straight past the hallway into the kitchen. My soles were buzzing from stomping driveway asphalt and kicking bike pedals all afternoon. Right on the open lower shelf, a thick yellow waffle-weave tea towel was folded into a plump square. I hooked my left leg onto the shelf lip, hauled myself up, and fell straight back into the cotton cushions. The textured fabric sank deep under my weight like an unrolled mattress. I kicked my feet up, let the waffle grooves catch my sides, and locked down my bunk for the night.