Night Shift on the Cushion

I pushed back through the cat flap, leaving the cold dark street behind. My paws carried a faint scent of asphalt as I crossed the living room rug. Up onto the sofa cushion. High ground. A woolen knit throw was bunched near the corner seam. I circled twice, pressing the heavy stitches flat with both forepaws until a firm hollow formed. I settled my chest down deep into the knit wool, tucking my paws under. The front hallway stays in full view through the open archway. One low hum from the kitchen. Steady breath. Night watch engaged.