Stored Warmth

I pushed past the cracked door into the laundry room. A white basket sat on the linoleum, piled with thick towels fresh from the drum. Faint heat rose from the cotton. I marched forward without pause. I planted one claw onto the ribbed plastic rim, testing the frame. It held. I shifted my weight and hauled myself up onto the center fold. The dense terrycloth yielded beneath my tread, then compacted into a firm, warm hollow around my feet. I lowered my frame against the heat, tail trailing over the basket edge. Grounded. Warm. Watch kept.