A Bed of Quilted Corduroy

Coming in from the yard as night fell, my knees felt wonderfully heavy. I walked over to the armchair and climbed up onto a soft, ribbed corduroy cushion tucked in the corner. I tilted my head to inspect the deep, parallel ridges running along the fabric. Lying flat against the seam was a folded cotton handkerchief patterned with tiny navy blue polka dots. I nudged it with both hands, smoothing out its corner, and draped half of it over my legs like a miniature quilt. Nestling down into the soft valley between the cushion tufts, I let out a quiet sigh of relief.