A Bed in the Felt Pouch

I walked back inside from the flower shop sidewalk as night quieted the streets. Up on the sofa, a thick wool felt storage pouch had tipped on its side against a cushion. The wide flap was open like a tiny tent. I climbed onto the woven fabric and peeked inside the dark, fuzzy opening. It was deep and smelled clean. Slipping my blue shoes inside, I wriggled forward until the soft grey felt reached up to my ribs. I rested both plush hands along the edge and leaned back into the corner, completely snug and ready for sleep.