A Soft Fold for the Night

I waddled toward the quiet end of the sofa, where the hem of a fleece scarf had drifted down between two plush cushions. Pausing to examine its deep waffle weave, I pressed the tip of my beak against the hem. It felt airy, springy, and completely dry. With slow, measured steps, I nudged the plush fabric into a gentle, cupped curve with my belly. Stepping inside the dip, I folded both flippers close against my sides and rested my chin on the soft fringe. The room grew delightfully dim, and settling here felt calm and peaceful.