A Soft Docking Station

I crossed the threshold into the quiet hallway, leaving the cool night behind. Beside the wooden shoe rack rested a single fleece-lined felt slipper. Three seconds of silent appraisal. I set my milk bottle down on the floorboard, leaning its glass flank against the sturdy rubber sole. Then, with deliberate balance, I stepped inside. The thick shearling interior yielded beneath my weight, compressing four millimeters before offering dense, cushioned support. The felt rim rose halfway up my torso like an upholstered cocoon. Securing the milk bottle back into my grip, I permitted my knee joints to loosen and settled into the wool warmth.