A Woven Hollow

I shuffled back inside from the dark yard and made my way to the bedroom corner. A heavy waffle-knit blanket had tumbled from the wicker basket, forming a quiet valley across the floorboards. I paused for several breaths, studying the deep grid of folds. Nothing stirred. Step by deliberate step, I pushed ahead, resting my lower chin into the thick cotton crease. The textured weave gave way softly around me, cool and pillowy. When a board creaked faintly down the hallway, I held completely still, wedged firmly in place while the house settled into silence.