A Mountain of Corduroy

A fallen knit throw blanket created a soft, sloping path leading up from the floor to the corner of the sofa. I paused at the base, letting my paws sink into the thick folds to test their hold. Slowly, step by measured step, I climbed the quiet ridge. At the top, between a pair of plump velvet cushions, lay a wide, hollow pocket sheltered from the room's gentle drafts. I settled into the valley of fabric, letting the surrounding warmth wrap against my sides. From here, the whole parlor looked peacefully vast below.