The Woven Slipper

I slipped out from under the side table and crept along the baseboard toward the hallway. Right where the floorboards meet the tile, an abandoned felt slipper lay tilted on its side, mouth yawning open. I paused, watching the still shadows tucked inside. Step by slow step, I padded forward and pressed my nose against the stiff wool rim. It held firm. Gently, I wiggled my front half straight into the deep, curved toe, letting the dark fabric wrap snugly around my head and paws. Outside, the morning began to stir, but in here it is silent and safe.