A Bed in the Fleece Cuff

My toes carried me back inside after the afternoon garden stroll, seeking a soft landing before the house went completely dark. Waddling past the low coffee table toward the sofa, I found a discarded fleece sweater draped over a wooden footstool. One folded sleeve dangled down, its ribbed cuff hollowed out like a soft, welcoming burrow. I nudged the plush rim open with my bill, testing its springy warmth. Stepping slowly inside, I tucked my feet beneath me as the thick knit curled snugly around my sides. It muffled the distant hum of the hallway lamp, making the whole evening feel quietly tucked away.