A Soft Flutter

I slipped behind the heavy armchair... slowly. The thick knit throw had tumbled down from the armrest, making a quiet, shadowed cave against the woven basket. I stayed still on the wooden floor, listening. A soft puff of warm air drifted from the vent, rustling the wool fringe right beside me. It whispered against my edge, gentle and steady. I tucked myself deeper into the dark fold of blanket. It smelled like cedar and quiet rest.