A Soft Nest

I nudged a thick knitted sock that had slipped to the floor. It was soft and smelled like clean laundry. I paused, testing its weight with the tip of my trunk, then slowly pushed it against the edge of a folded fleece blanket. Step by step, I nudged the fabric into a gentle curve. It made a small, quiet hollow beside the chair leg. I backed into the center and rested my front feet on the folded hem. The night is quiet now, and everything feels settled.