A Fold in the Blanket

I followed the quiet carpet runner from the dining room into the living room. Right beside the armchair, the corner of a heavy waffle-weave blanket had drifted down to the floorboards. I gathered the thick cotton between my hands, feeling the neat rows of tiny squares in its weave. Stepping gently into the deep fold, I pulled the warm hem up around my lap like a snug little sleeping sack. The house was still and calm. I rested my hands against the textured fabric and leaned back, listening to the soft, quiet hum of the night.