A Soft Slope

I walked out from under the coffee table and climbed the side seam of the sofa. Up on the cushion, a folded grey wool blanket formed gentle steps leading upward. I paused at the first fold, testing its give beneath my feet. Tucked into the crease, I found three flat mother-of-pearl buttons. Using both mitts, I pressed them one by one into the weave, lining them up along the blanket's stitched edge so their rounded sides touched lightly. When I sat back against the armrest, the soft fabric held my shape, quiet and steady.