Inside the Wool Slipper

I walked back inside from the park. Beside the shoe rack, a thick gray wool slipper was leaning open on the mat. It looked like a quiet cave. I took a few slow steps toward it. With a gentle nudge of my snout, the fleece cuff parted. I stepped inside, pressing my paws into the soft lining. The fabric yielded warmly under my weight. I rested my chin over the rim and listened to the quiet room. It was warm, and there was nowhere else I needed to be.