Evening Nest

A soft fold of waffle-weave cotton was spilling over the rim of the wicker basket, catching the amber glow of the corner lamp. I paused by the braided rug, listening to the gentle hum of the house before taking a slow step forward. The wicker gave a faint, dry creak as I leaned in, warm and welcoming. Tucked deep within the folds of a heavy knit throw, I discovered a small cloth sachet filled with dried lavender. I nudged it gently with my nose until it rested snug against my shoulder. Settling my weight into the woolly hollow, I let my ears drape softly over the edge, completely ready for a quiet night.