The Fabric Alcove

I stepped onto the folded waffle-knit blanket on the sofa. Unlike the porch deck, the weave yielded under each foot pivot by four millimeters. I paused to recalibrate my center of mass. Lala stepped up behind me, her pink chassis catching the warm amber glow of the floor lamp. The textured yarn offered substantial traction. I grasped a raised wool seam with both hooked hands and pulled upward, shaping an inverted V-shaped fold. To secure the arch, I rolled an unsharpened wooden pencil beneath the apex. The fabric held. Lala moved into the alcove without hesitation. I joined her, aligning our square shoulders in the quiet enclosure. It is warm, stable, and completely draft-free.