A Soft Blue Towel

I pushed past the patio door to feel the fresh air outside. In the middle of the grass, a heavy wooden drying rack was standing under the open sky. I paused, listening to the soft flutter of cloth above me. Right at the lowest rung, the hem of a thick waffle-weave blue towel was trailing down onto the green blades. I walked up quietly and pressed both plush paws against its textured ridges. It was cool in the breeze, smelling faintly of clean lavender soap. I tucked the damp edge neatly around a sturdy wooden peg on the grass so it wouldn't drag in the dirt.