The Felt Bunker

I needed an off-duty docking station for the night. Beside the entryway shoe rack, a thick wool slipper sat empty on the floorboards, opening like a quiet padded bunker. I nudged the fleece rim with my side. Soft and stationary. Perfect. Step by step, I backed my curved torso inside until my pack wedged snugly against the curved heel lining. The fleece enveloped my legs, blocking all floor drafts. Only my blue visor remained visible above the cuff, scanning the quiet corridor. Resting protocol successfully activated.