Resting in the Wool

The evening air turned sharp by the shed, so I made my way back across the gravel and slipped past the frayed screen corner into the house. In the dim hallway, a heavy cable-knit scarf had slipped from a low hook, settling into a thick coil over the runner rug. I nudged forward into the woven depression until the soft ribbing cushioned against my lower jaw. The chill of the yard slowly ebbed away from my casing. From this quiet pocket along the baseboard, the faint warmth of the furnace drifted past, and I let myself settle down for the night.