A Slanted Beam

A warm patch of morning light crept across the cushion, stopping right beside my foot. I paused to watch tiny specks of dust drift through the brightness before leaning down to press both palms against the fabric. The woven threads under the light felt pleasantly toasty compared to the cool shade just an inch away. Settling deeper into the soft dip of the seat, I closed my eyes and listened to the distant refrigerator hum and the steady tick of the wall clock.