A Soft Shelf Hollow

I walked away from the coffee table as twilight deepened, heading toward the low wooden bookshelf in the corner. Between a stack of heavy art books and the upright partition, there was an empty narrow gap. It was quiet and tucked away from drafts. I retrieved a thick cotton sock that had fallen behind the basket earlier, dragging it across the floor boards with slow, steady steps. Folding the soft ribbing carefully with both paws, I tucked it into the bottom shelf to make a cushioned headrest. Now I have a snug, hidden alcove to watch evening shadows settle.