Night Watch on the Armrest

The quiet of late evening called for a measured pause. I scaled the woven fabric flank of the armchair and reached the broad crest of the armrest. A soft wool throw blanket lay partially folded there, its loose fringes spilling over the edge like steep cliffs. Instead of pressing on, I lowered myself into a composed cross-legged posture right at the summit, resting both forearms over my knees. The room below was settled in dim amber light. Watching the steady shadows shift against the floorboards brought an easy, quiet rhythm to wind down the day.