The Woolly Slipper

I wedged my bare feet straight into the gaping collar of a giant shearling slipper resting by the armchair. The interior was packed with dense, warm fleece that gripped my calves softly. I let out a sharp, breathy squeak when the thick rubber sole tilted slightly under my shifting weight, but the heavy shoe stayed firmly planted on the rug. Pushing forward on my palms, I wiggled my hips downward until the plush wool swallowed both of my legs up to my waist. I leaned back against the curved suede heel and let out a long sigh, safe and warm.