The Velvet Pouch

I leaned against the carved wooden leg of the big armchair. Tucked in the shadow behind it was a tiny drawstring pouch made of wine-red velvet. I reached out both hands and smoothed the soft, fuzzy cloth. Two thin golden cords hung from the top. Slow and careful, I pulled the little knotted ends outward. The gathered neck eased open with a gentle, silky slide. Inside lay three smooth wooden beads, snug and still. I rested my palm over the opening, feeling the quiet warmth of the velvet. It made a perfect little pillow for the night.