Fleece Bastion

The biting street chill has met its match! We marched back from the entrance, scaled the quiet carpeted stairs, and slipped beneath the apartment door into still warmth. Draped across the sofa awaits a thick, waffle-knit fleece blanket, holding heat in its dark folds. We do not tear soft fiber. We drive our broad frame straight into the valley between two heavy cushions, pulling the dense fabric over our shoulders like a dark cowl. Trapped warmth seeps into our chilled limbs, slackening our rigid tendrils. We rest our heavy chin against the plush knit and watch the ceiling shadows drift. Even sovereigns must recharge our fury.