A Slanted Refuge

I noticed a quiet gap behind the big armchair where the floor lamp casts a gentle, slanting shadow. I crept along the baseboard, pausing whenever the floor felt cool beneath my paws. Tucked deep in the corner was a stray woolen sock, rolled loosely into a donut shape. It smelled faintly of clean laundry. I nudged the soft fold with my snout, testing how sturdy it was. When it gave way without a sound, I wriggled forward and pressed my head against its warm, fuzzy curve. It made a perfect little bolster to lean on before settling down for the night.