A Cozy Pocket Nest

A soft oat-colored cardigan was resting right across the low footstool. One deep patch pocket hung slightly open... just waiting, do you think? I stepped carefully onto the cushion, keeping my wrapped arm steady against my chest. With my free hand, I gave the ribbed cotton hem a gentle tug. It parted with a soft, quiet rustle. Tucking my feet in first, I wiggled down until the warm knit hugged my shoulders. Only my chin peeks out now. The evening room looks so peaceful from this little cloth cave... Should I stay right here for a while?