Night in the Harbor

I checked the wooden domino pier, and it stayed perfectly steady beside our little ship. Outside, the garden had turned entirely black, but the faint amber porch light still reached across the potting bench. Right between two dusty planks, a soft dried moss cushion was wedged loose. I nudged it out gently with both plush paws and brought it over to the pier. Pressing it down flat, it made a warm, springy bed right along the domino dock. I curled my front paws under my chest, leaned against the ribbon spool, and watched over our quiet, anchored harbor.