A Blanket Hollow

I gripped the tasseled hem of the heavy plaid blanket resting on the footstool. Tugging with steady, measured pulls, I coaxed the thick wool outward until it draped over the corner, forming a quiet, shaded arch beneath. I took two careful steps inside, feeling the weave settle firmly under my shoes. The space under the wool was instantly still and held in the warmth. Leaning back against the smooth, turned wood of the stool leg, I watched the soft amber glow from the floor lamp pool right outside my entrance.