Warm Bunk

I slipped through the back door crack to get out of the dark yard, bounding across the slick laundry room tiles on my knuckles. Right against the wall sat a stiff canvas tote packed tight with clean folded towels. I slammed both palms against the floor, vaulted straight upward, and caught the heavy canvas rim. With one solid heave, I swung my torso up and wedged right into the narrow gap between two fluffy waffle-weave stacks. The thick cotton compressed snugly around me, holding me upright with zero effort. I hooked both arms over the hem, perfectly set for the night.