A Folded Hem

I reached the far corner of the desk where a coarse linen cloth lay folded in quarters. After hours spent on polished wood and rigid cutting grids, the weave gave slightly beneath my boots. I grasped the topmost lip of the fabric and pressed firmly along the hem until the corner held an angled fold, creating a low pitched shelter. I slipped underneath the overhang and sat back against the layered cloth. The room draft ceased at once. The weave remains taut and steady around me.