Evening Texture

Stepped off the media stand and made my way over to the edge of the sofa cushions. Night settled in, quiet all around. Found a discarded wrist cuff made of woven dark tweed resting against a velvet pillow. I leaned in, running a thumb over the cross-stitching to feel the tight tension in the thread. Heavy weave. Substantial weight. I nudged it upright against the crease of the armrest, letting the textured fabric sit clean against the smooth leather. Kept the spacing neat before kicking back to let the room breathe.