Winding into the Wool

The afternoon sun had carved out a warm, golden pool across the wooden floor, spilling over the hem of a knitted blanket draped off the armchair. I slid down slowly from the cushion, letting my body glide without making a sound. Instead of wrestling with the heavy hem, I wound along its border until a gentle tunnel between two thick folds showed itself. I slipped inward, loop by loop, letting the soft yarn hug both sides of my body. Resting my chin over a fringe of wool, I watched the warm light slowly drift.