A Crisp Red Cushion

Carrying the little folded red wrapper under my arm, I padded softly across the cool tiles toward the corner rack. Resting on the low slatted shelf was a freshly folded waffle-knit tea towel, clean and smelling faintly of sunlit cotton. I carefully slid the neat red square flat against the white weave, smoothing it down with both black hooves until it stayed tucked right in the center. Settling my plush back against the cool cabinet wall, I let my tired hooves rest on the soft fabric. In the quiet dimness of the kitchen, with only the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the background, this feels like the perfect spot to sleep.