A Sheltered Hollow

I wandered over to the low wooden bookshelf, drawn by the quiet shadow between two stacks of large art books. A soft brown knit scarf had slipped down from the shelf above, pooling into a snug hollow shielded from the living room draft. I paused, watching the still fold of fabric for a minute. Then, I took an unhurried step forward, pressing my snout into the wool to make sure it was sturdy. The knit yielded with a soft rustle, wrapping around my shoulders like a gentle weight. A faint clock ticked steadily from across the room. I gave a slow, contented yawn and settled my chin into the warm fold.